#anika answers stuff

[bronzetomatoes]

crazy thing is that this assignment is crazy easy and i'm even interested in the subject matter but it's more about the principle of not wanting to do an assignment

[kaces-graham-crackers]

My Eyes on You - Valentine's Special

| -Tara Carpenter x Secret Admirer Reader- |

Summary: It starts with a note—small, unsigned, tucked into Tara’s locker like a secret waiting to be unraveled. One at her usual café, slipped between the pages of a book she was reading. Each one too personal, too knowing, referencing moments and memories she didn’t realize someone else had been holding onto. The final note—a time, a place. The answer is waiting in the dark; the admirer is finally ready to be seen.

Word Count: 3.5k

The final bell sliced through the low hum of conversation, a signal that sent students spilling into the hallways like floodgates had been opened. The usual chaos of end-of-day energy buzzed around you—weekend plans being made, lockers slamming shut, the steady stream of people funneled toward the exit.

Beside you, Tara walked quickly, fingers toying absentmindedly with the edge of an envelope she had just pulled from her locker—another one. “Alright, let’s see what my little ghostwriter has to say today,” she mused, already peeling it open. Mindy, Chad, and Anika slowed their steps just enough to listen, equally nosy and entertained. Chad groaned. “Again? What is this, like, the third one this week?”

“Fifth,” Tara corrected, unfolding the note with the same air of nonchalance she had every time, as if it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t slowly picking apart the edges of her mind. Your stomach twisted as she smoothed the paper, eyes scanning the words before reading them aloud. "I wonder if you ever noticed how they looked at you that night at the ice cream shop. The way you made it hard for them not to fall. The way you always do."

Silence.

Anika let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s kind of... romantic?” “Or creepy,” Mindy added, arms crossing. “Who even remembers that night?” You did.

You remembered how Tara had ordered her usual—chocolate with sprinkles—then, for unknown reasons, attempted to balance the entire cone on the back of her hand. She’d made it three steps before it tumbled, a mess of melted ice cream and laughter, the kind that doesn’t just fade away but settles somewhere deep, like an old song stuck on repeat. And maybe, you had looked at her a little too long that night. Tara scoffed, shoving the note into her pocket with practiced ease. She played it off like it was nothing and didn’t sit in the back of her mind like the others did. Like she wasn’t already dissecting it, wondering who had been watching her so closely.

If there was one thing about Tara Carpenter, she didn’t like not knowing.

The group stepped outside, the evening air crisp against your skin, thick with the familiar scent of damp pavement and the distant burn of street food carts from the edge of campus. Students filtered onto the sidewalks, peeling off toward dorms, Ubers, and whatever half-baked plans they had for the night. Chad slung his backpack over one shoulder, exhaling sharply. “This is getting weird,” he muttered, glancing between Tara and the half-crumpled note in her grip. “First the locker notes, then the one in your notebook, and now this?” He gestured vaguely at her pocket, like the mere presence of the letters was an affront to common sense. “How the hell are they even leaving them without you noticing?”

“They’re sneaky,” Mindy supplied, ever the voice of rational paranoia. “Or you just don’t pay attention.” Tara rolled her eyes. “You’re both being dramatic. It’s just some random admirer. No big deal.” Anika smirked. “You like the attention, though.”

Tara didn’t deny it. Instead, she shrugged, nonchalant, but there was something else beneath it—a flicker of thoughtfulness as her fingers absently brushed the edge of her pocket. “I just think it’s funny,” she mused, voice lighter than the look in her eyes. “They remember stuff. Specific things. They’re either incredibly observant or completely obsessed.” Quinn chimed in, “Or both” lips twitching with amusement. “And I, for one, think that’s hot.” Tara was right. The notes weren’t just recycled compliments or half-hearted poetry. They were deliberate—threaded with memories, details so specific they felt like echoes of something intimate. Little moments she hadn’t realized someone else had been holding onto.

As the group neared the edge of campus, the natural rhythm of parting ways set in. Chad was already absorbed in texting someone, Anika and Mindy were murmuring about where to get food, and Quinn peeled off toward the subway without a backward glance. But Tara lingered, hands stuffed in her pockets, shoulders loose but mind elsewhere. "You gonna keep them?" you asked, keeping your tone light, though something about the weight of her answer already hung in the air.

She glanced at you, then looked away just as quickly, a barely-there smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Probably. Maybe one day I’ll figure out who they are." Something was behind her voice, something layered beneath the teasing—a challenge, a certainty. She was already putting the pieces together, forming a list of possibilities.

And if she kept looking and followed the trail long enough, she would find the answer. The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time you and Tara found yourselves sprawled out in the living room of her apartment, an unspoken tradition after long school days. The coffee table was cluttered with remnants of a shared snack—half-eaten chips, a bottle of soda, Tara’s feet propped up like she had no intention of moving anytime soon.

Tara had all six notes fanned out in front of her, scanning them one by one, brow furrowed in concentration. You leaned over slightly, pointing at the most recent one about the ice cream shop.

“Alright, so whoever this is, they were there that night,” you said. “And they remembered it in a way that isn’t just casual. Like… ‘I saw you spill ice cream on yourself’ is one thing. But this?” You tapped the line Tara had read aloud earlier. The way you made it hard for them not to fall. “That’s personal.”

Tara hummed, running a finger over the note. “It could still be a coincidence.” You shot her a look. “Five other notes, Tara. At this point, it’s a pattern.” Before she could respond, unlocking the front door made you glance up.

Sam stepped inside, shrugging off her jacket. Her hair was slightly tousled from the wind outside. She blinked when she saw you both camped out on the floor, and then her gaze flicked to the scattered notes between you.

“… Okay. What conspiracy are we unraveling tonight?”

Tara sighed dramatically, tossing one of the notes toward Sam as she flopped back onto the couch. “I have a secret admirer.”

Sam caught the note midair, raising an eyebrow as she read it. She stayed quiet for a moment, then exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple like this was the last thing she needed to deal with tonight. “You’re not taking this seriously, are you?” Sam asked, already walking toward the kitchen. Tara smirked. “Why? You jealous?” Sam scoffed, opening the fridge. “I’m exhausted. And the last time someone started leaving weird messages around, I had to stab a guy, so forgive me for not being thrilled about this little romantic mystery.”

You chuckled. “Not everything is a potential murder, Sam.”

She shot you a pointed look as she grabbed a water bottle. “In this family? Everything is a potential murder.” Tara rolled her eyes, sitting up again. “Look, it’s someone in our friend group. They’d have to be close enough to know all these details about me.” You nodded. “So, let’s break it down. Who was at the ice cream shop that night?” Tara glanced at the notes again, thinking. “Me, you, Mindy, Anika, Chad, Quinn—”

“And Ethan,” Sam added from the kitchen.

You paused. “So basically… everyone we know.” Tara groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Great. That narrows it down.” Sam leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Or… you could just not entertain this.” Tara ignored her, eyes scanning the notes again, fingers tapping idly against her thigh. The admirer had been careful, deliberate. But not careful enough. Someone in your friend group was watching.

The following note arrived at the usual hangout spot—Mindy’s apartment, where the group had piled onto the couch for their weekly horror movie night. The air smelled like popcorn and leftover takeout, and the coffee table was already littered with empty cups and snack wrappers.

Tara had been sitting beside you, legs tucked under her, fully prepared to ignore Chad’s commentary about why horror protagonists always make the worst decisions. But as she reached for her phone, a note brushed against her fingertips inside her jacket pocket. Her stomach sank as she pulled it out, carefully unfolding the small piece of paper, already knowing what it would be. Mindy noticed first. “Oh, for the love of—another one?”

Tara ignored her, smoothing out the paper as she read aloud.

"I wonder if you know how you pull people in without trying. How your laugh lingers, how your presence shifts the air. If only you could see yourself the way I do." The room fell silent.

Chad groaned dramatically, running a hand down his face. “Okay, that’s it. This is officially romantic stalker levels now.” Mindy leaned over, peering at the note. “Gotta admit… they’ve got a way with words.” Tara’s expression was unreadable, her thumb running over the ink as if she could feel the weight of the words. This was different from the others. More personal. The admirer wasn’t just watching her anymore. They were hoping she’d see them too. Anika nudged her playfully. “So, do you have any guesses yet, or are we still pretending this isn’t completely messing with your head?”

Tara huffed, folding the note carefully before tucking it back into her pocket. “I don’t know. It has to be someone close, but…” She trailed off, her gaze flickering briefly toward you before shifting away just as quickly. She wasn’t ready to finish that thought. Not yet. But she knew you would have her back whoever or whatever would happen next. The night air was crisp, cutting through Tara’s jacket as she adjusted the strap of her bag and fumbled with the keys in her pocket. The streets of New York were still alive around her, the dull roar of traffic, the occasional burst of laughter from passing strangers, the rhythmic buzz of the city that never quite slept.

She was exhausted. A full day of classes, followed by an impromptu hangout at Anika’s place, had drained whatever energy she had left. All she wanted now was to get home, shower, and maybe—maybe—finally stop thinking about the secret admirer that had been slowly unraveling her brain for weeks. It had become a routine: a note here, a whisper of a memory there, moments from her life reflected at her like she was walking through a house of mirrors. She wasn’t sure when it had stopped feeling like a game. Tara stepped into the elevator of her apartment complex, jabbing the button for her floor before leaning against the cool metal wall. The ride up was quiet, the distant hum of the city fading into the background as she let her head fall back, exhaling slowly.

She was starting to think she’d never get an answer. Then the elevator doors slid open. And she saw it. A single envelope was placed carefully at the foot of her apartment door.

Tara stopped breathing.

It wasn’t wedged under the door like a delivery, nor had it been tossed carelessly to the side. It was placed deliberately, centered perfectly, as if waiting for her to pick it up.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stepped forward, kneeling slightly to grab it, fingers trembling just a little as she turned it over in her hands. No name. No initials. Just a tiny, folded note, simple and unassuming. But Tara knew better. She exhaled sharply, pushing the door open with her shoulder before stepping inside, kicking it shut behind her as she walked straight to the couch, already unfolding the paper.

The handwriting was familiar now. She had spent weeks staring at it, tracing her fingers over the ink, memorizing how the words slanted slightly, like the writer had been hesitant and confident all at once.

But this time, it was different.

This time, there were no riddles, no carefully crafted phrases meant to make her think. This time, there was just a single message.

“Meet me on the rooftop. Sunset.”

Tara’s breath caught. There was no signature. No initials. Just instructions.

For the first time, the admirer wasn’t hiding behind poetic confessions or lingering memories. They were asking her to meet them. Her fingers clenched around the paper, pulse pounding in her ears.

She had spent weeks playing this game, reading notes, searching for connections, and chasing a shadow that refused to be caught. Now, they were stepping out of the dark. And she was going to see them. Her first instinct was to text you.

She didn’t know why—maybe it was because you were always there when she found these notes, the one person who didn’t roll their eyes or brush it off. Maybe it was because she trusted you to keep her grounded when things felt slipping out of her control.

Tara: You free?

You: Always. What’s up?

Tara:… meet me. Roof.

She hesitated before hitting send, but only for a second. She didn’t want to go alone no matter who awaited her.

When Tara pushed open the rooftop door, the sky melted into soft shades of orange and pink. The crisp evening air greeted her first, followed by the distant hum of the city below, but none of it registered—the moment her eyes adjusted to the dimming light, she stopped short.

The rooftop had been transformed.

Roses, carefully arranged, petals scattered across the surface. A table set for two, candlelight flickering inside small glass jars. A bottle of chilled sparkling grape juice sat in an ice bucket, beads of condensation forming along the glass, next to her favorite meal, plated with precision, waiting for her like something out of a dream.

Her breath hitched. She felt you step up beside her, the warmth of your presence grounding her before she could spiral.

"This is…” She trailed off, shaking her head. "Okay, what the hell?" She turned slightly, scanning the rooftop, waiting for someone to step forward. But no one did. No movement. No shadow emerging from the dimming light. The realization sent a strange chill down her spine.

No one was here.

She exhaled, a mix of frustration and disbelief curling in her chest. "I don’t get it. Who—" She stopped because you weren’t looking for anyone. You were looking at her. And suddenly, it was too quiet. Before she could speak and string together the thousands of questions screaming in her head, you opened your mouth. Tara’s mind was short-circuiting. The notes, the memories, the lingering glances that never seemed out of place until now—it was all you.

She didn’t know what to say.

For weeks, she had been searching for an answer, turning over every possibility, teasing out every clue, only to realize the answer had been standing next to her the whole time. Her jaw tightened as she exhaled sharply, trying to process it all. “You seriously had me running around like a lunatic over this?” You huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “In my defense, I didn’t think you’d go full FBI mode.”

Tara shot you a look, arms crossing. “You were writing me anonymous love letters. What did you expect me to do? … not wonder who the hell was obsessed with me?”You blinked. “‘Obsessed’ is a strong word.” Tara scoffed, pulling one of the notes from her pocket and unfolding it dramatically. “Oh, I don’t know. ‘I wonder if you know what you do to people’ seems intense.” You groaned. “Okay, yeah. Maybe a little obsessed.”Silence stretched between you for a beat. Then—Tara raised a brow. “So?”

Your brows furrowed. “So…?” She gestured vaguely. “Aren’t you going to explain yourself? Or am I supposed to be so charmed by this grand rooftop gesture that I swoon and fall into your arms?” You smirked, arms crossing. “Would that work?” Tara rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

You inhaled, exhaling slowly before shrugging. “Look… I wanted to tell you. I did. But every time I got close, you’d get excited about the mystery, and I—” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I chickened out. I figured if you were looking for the answer, maybe—just maybe—you wanted to find it.” Tara tilted her head, considering you. “And if I didn’t?” You swallowed. “Then I guess I would’ve spent Valentine’s Day up here alone, eating an embarrassing amount of pasta and wallowing in my bad decisions.”

She let out a sharp breath, something like a laugh, and shook her head. “Jesus. You’re an idiot.” You grinned. “An idiot who likes you, though.” Tara bit her lip. Something in her expression shifted, something softer—dangerously close to fond. “... Yeah,” she murmured, not looking away this time. “I kinda figured that part out.” She was still standing close—too close—and suddenly, it wasn’t the city air making it hard to breathe. Tara’s gaze flickered over your face, searching, weighing something. 

“You made me go through all of this just to tell me something I probably already knew, didn’t you?” You smirked. “I dunno. I think you kinda liked the chase.” Her brows lifted. “Oh? That what you think?” You shrugged. “I mean, you didn’t have to come up here. You could’ve just ignored the note. Tossed it. Pretended you weren’t interested.”

Tara sucked in a slow breath, her lips curving ever so slightly. “… Maybe I like knowing how far someone’s willing to go for me.” Your heart stumbled out your chest. She was teasing, but something was dangerous beneath it—something honest.

You wet your lips. “Would you be mad if I kissed you right now?”

Then—she smirked.

“Depends,” she said, tilting her chin slightly. “Are you gonna make me chase you for that too?”, and just like that—you were done for. Because before you could think, before you could overanalyze or second-guess or do anything remotely rational, you leaned in.

Tara met you halfway, and suddenly, nothing else mattered.

The city faded. The roses, the flickering candlelight, the skyline stretching beyond the rooftop—all of it blurred, dissolving into the background the second her lips touched yours. She kissed you like she had been waiting for this—like she had spent the past few weeks unraveling a mystery only to realize she had been at the center of it all along.

She met you halfway, but it wasn’t enough. Not for her. Not after weeks of chasing a mystery, weeks of untangling riddles and second-guessing what she wanted. Now that she had you right in front of her—now that she knew it had always been you—she wasn’t going to hesitate. So she didn’t. Her hands slid up, gripping the collar of your jacket before moving—faster than you expected, rougher than you expected—to the back of your neck.

And then she pulled. There was nothing soft about it. Your breath barely had time to hitch before her lips crashed into yours—a collision, not a question. It was all at once—weeks of tension, wondering, and wanting, all spilling into how she kissed you now. Firm. Certain. You made a quiet, startled noise against her mouth, fingers twitching at your sides before finding their place—one hand pressing against the curve of her waist, the other sliding up to cup the back of her head.

She tilted her chin, deepening the kiss, swallowing the sharp breath you took like she wanted to keep it. Your head spun, lungs burning from how completely she had just stolen the air from them. When she finally eased up, she didn’t let go. Her fingers lingered against your skin, her grip still firm against your neck, like she wasn’t ready to step away. Her breath was uneven when she finally spoke. “Took you long enough.”

You exhaled a short laugh, forehead brushing hers. “Me? You’re the one who had me running all over the city like a detective.” Tara hummed, thumb tracing absent circles against the nape of your neck. “And yet, you still showed up.”You smirked. “Guess I like the chase."

Her lips twitched. “Not anymore, you don’t.” And just like that, she kissed you again. Slower this time. Still firm. Still claiming. This wasn’t an answer—it was a statement. A fact.

Your pulse was a wreck when she finally pulled back, but her hands were steady. She turned slightly, glancing toward the table—the one you had spent hours setting up, the one she was just now acknowledging. Her grip on your neck didn’t waver, but her lips curled as she exhaled.

“You went all out, huh?” You swallowed, still trying to remember how to function. “Yeah. I mean... figured if I was going to confess, might as well make it dramatic.” Tara hummed, finally letting her fingers slip away from your skin—slow, reluctant. She took your hand instead, tugging you forward. “Come on,” she murmured, leading you toward the table. She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, smirking. “Let’s see what you planned for our first date.”

And you—still breathless, still dazed, still wrecked from the way she had just pulled you in like she had been waiting forever to do it—had no choice but to follow.

[basicinstinctmacher]

Dark!Protective Ethan x Sunshine!Reader

i’m trying to do a lot better about giving warnings in my fics because i know certain topics or themes can be uncomfortable or triggering for people, no matter how big or small it is your feelings are valid! so, with that being said:

WARNINGS: reader uses the pronouns she/her, reader is financially stable, she calls her dad daddy, ethan hates everyone but reader

Something always being questioned by your friends was, how in the hell did you manage to always be so damn happy all the time? If sunshine was in human form, you were it. Always bright. Always beaming. Not only were you happy, you were sweet. Like disney princess sweet, no mean bone in your body.

Which only added to the confusion on why in the hell you would choose Ethan out of everyone to fall in love with. He was not sweet, or bright. Definitely not beaming. Unless it was for you, then in that case, he was like spun sugar.

Point is, you were kind of a mystery to them. That is until they find out how financially secure your family is.

When your friends pulled up to your family's lake house, to say they were shocked was an understatement. "Okay. It all makes so much sense now." Tara said removing her sunglasses. "Yeah," Chad added. "The designer sundresses. The whimsical chaos. You're sunshine in human form personality. You're rich!"

You furrow your brows at that. "What? No I'm not!" Before anyone else could say anything, a man dressed in a very expensive looking cardigan and loafers walks out of the house. "Sweet Pea, I have some bad news." You turn at the sound of your dad's voice. "Oh no, what is it daddy?"

"That's her dad?!?" Mindy whispers to Chad as they all look very surprised at the father and daughter duo. "I thought that was a celebrity."

"I'm not gonna be able to stay the weekend like we planned, pumpkin. I gotta go take care of work stuff." They hear your dad say, and watch as he pinches your cheeks in that, "you are the light of my life." kind of way. "I understand. Can you meet my friends before you leave though? They're all finally here!" You grab your dad's arm and gently pull him over to your friends.

"Alright daddy, this is Tara, Chad, Mindy, and Anika! Guys, this is my dad!"

They all exchange pleasantries and carry on in conversation for a while before your dad finally gets ready to leave. "Okay, pumpkin, I'm off. I made your favorite lemonade and cut some fruit in star shape for you and your friends. Be good and I'll see you and Ethan when I get back home."

After your dad leaves, you show everyone to their rooms, and let them unpack and settle in while you go find wherever Ethan had disappeared to.

As soon as the group step out onto the back of the wraparound porch, Tara actually stops in her tracks. "I swear we are in some kind of disney movie right now."

Mindy added in disbelief, "She has a garden built from a cottage core pinterest board." You were barefoot in the grass, twirling around in your pretty yellow sundress. "Wait until you see my lemonade swing!" You beam at them excitedly. "What the hell is a lemonade swing?" Chad asked very much confused.

"It's her porch swing where you drink lemonade." Ethan answers flatly, almost like the answer was obvious, walking by without a shirt on and carrying an axe. He looked like he just stepped out of a sexy lumberjack thirst trap calendar. They went silent.

"I need to sit down." Tara muttered. "I need to be lobotomized." Mindy whispered to Anika. "I understand even more now why shes so freaking happy all the time. I'd be happy too if my boyfriend looked like he could bench press a car." Mindy lightly elbows Anika after that.

Meanwhile, you were humming a Taylor Swift song to yourself while gathering wildflowers, occasionally stopping to show Ethan one. "Ethan, look at this one! It's pink with freckles! Just like me!" Ethan stopped what he was doing to look at the flower, and with complete seriousness states, "You're way prettier baby." You let out a soft squeal at that, and then skipped away to add it to your basket of overflowing flowers.

"How are they real?"

"She's like a literal disney princess, and he's a serial killer in a slasher movie that only kills people who look at her wrong." Mindy states in pure disbelief.

Later on you're all sitting together in the living room, just relaxing after a day spent in the sun, when Mindy asks the question that's been on everyone's mind. "Okay but, how do you exist?"

You pause from bedazzling your new reusable tote bag, and blink up from your seat on the floor. "Huh?" Tara politely clarifies, "You're like objectively spoiled, Y/N/N. You grew up with a boat guy, you still call your dad 'daddy', and he unironically calls you 'princess'. And you still say 'please' and 'thank you' to waiters and bake cookies for the maintenance crew."

You tilt your head at that, "Just because my dad has money and I benefit from it, doesn't mean I get to treat people like they're garbage." Ethan quietly laughs from beside you and places a kiss to your cheek, "I told you guys. She's sunshine wrapped in chanel." You hide your face in Ethan's shoulder as you defend yourself, "It was vintage!"

"Of course it was, of course your $800 purse is sustainably sourced and secondhand."

You give them a sheepish grin. "My dad says if I'm gonna spend money, I better do it right."

After a while you move everyone out to the deck and put Ethan to work making a fire in the fire-pit, obviously he does so willingly, and you bring out a tray filled with all the essentials for making s'mores.

When the fire is successfully lit, Ethan pulls you into his lap in a deck chair, and wraps his arms securely around your waist. Fireflies dance softly around the lake making the atmosphere even more peaceful.

"This place is magical." Tara whispers as she watches the flames crackle in the fire-pit. "She's magical," Ethan corrects Tara, pressing his cheek to your head. "The lake just knows to rise to her level when she's around."

The next morning after the best sleep of their lives, the group wanders out to the dock one by one, where you have been curled into Ethan's lap for the past hour. You had a deeply serious expression on your face as you were hyper focused on making a daisy chain. "Is she really always like this?" Chad questions through a yawn. Not even looking over at Chad as he tucked another wildflower into your hair, Ethan simply stated, "Every single day."

Tara smiled questionably at that, "Like every day? Sitting in your lap, wearing your hoodie, surrounded by flowers on a dock? You're basically living in a pinterest board." You giggled at that, and look up at your friends dreamily. "I am the pinterest board!"

Mindy snorted, "Yeah sure, if the pinterest board was created by an eight year old obsessed with fairy's and apologizing to ants." Your eyes widen dramatically in offense, "That's because ants have feelings too and everyone is always so mean to them!" But before Mindy could come up with a snarky response, Ethan cuts his eyes at her. Dark but calm. Protective. "Think very carefully about what you're about to say to her." His voice was way too casual to deem safe. Almost like he was daring her to test him.

You, completely unfazed by your boyfriend's murderous undertone, just smiled up at him and tugged on his sleeve. "Ethan, will you help me finish this flower crown? You have such gentle hands.” He visibly softened, and kissed your lips quickly, “Whatever you want, baby.”

Chad lets out a baffled breath. “He literally kills people for fun in his free time. But look at him, with her he’s like wrapped around her glitter covered finger.”

“I’m watching a man who has quite literally broken a guys nose for spilling coffee on him help make a flower crown.” Anika whispers as she watches Ethan delicately tie off the stems of the crown.

Once the crown was complete and placed proudly on your head, Ethan moved behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “My perfect little lake goddess.” He whispers in your ear.

You squealed and dramatically threw yourself back into his lap. “I’m retiring from everything except feeding ants and Ethan kisses.”

“Sounds like a solid life plan,” he says while squishing your cheeks together sweetly. “I’ll handle the rest.”

Mindy buries her face into her hands with a groan. “They’re so in love, I think all of humanity is third wheeling.”

“Glad you’re finally catching on.” Ethan deadpans.

[summerclementine27]

Meet Me in The Hallway🌷pt. 1

summary: Mr. Styles has possibly interested Y/N more than his literature classes and she finds herself pining for him over the months.

pairings: professor!harry, student!reader

warnings: small age difference, mentions of smut

word count: 4.7k

note: i wanted to make this one part but it will be too long so there will have to be a part 2

part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/summerclementine27/757559698881986560/meet-me-in-the-hallway-pt2

Tender days of mid-October

As I took my seat in the large lecture hall, a sense of anticipation loomed over me. Today, Mr. Styles was giving us the results of the last literature and theory criticism coursework I had handed in the previous week. This was my third class with him, one of two this school year, the other being Contemporary Literature. Last year, he taught me Introduction to Literature, a mandatory class for my degree. Though I dreaded it at first due to his choice of reading list, I ended up falling in love with the course because of the way he taught it. Some works I initially criticized him for choosing, he ended up using as examples and critiqued them himself, like "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin. Plus, it helped that he was impossibly handsome with his tall frame, tousled brown hair, and piercing green eyes.

When my friends noticed how much I liked his class, they were unfazed. However, as I became somewhat of a teacher’s pet in a class rudimentary compared to the others I took this year—such as Feminism and Literature, Historical Narratives in Fiction, and Postcolonial Literary Criticism—they realized that maybe the tall, green-eyed man was what had really piqued my interest, not discussing "Middlemarch" for four classes.

On days when I had his class, I dressed extra nicely, sometimes even daring to pair a clean collared shirt with a shorter-than-usual skirt. One time, I even left my wool trench coat on during the first period and stood up from my auditorium seat to take it off. Sitting in the back, the rows of chairs likely covered the lower part of my body, but I was sure the space between my long boots and short skirt was visible from his vantage point. Surely, my abrupt standing would grab his attention. What I didn’t anticipate was him pausing in the middle of a long train of thought to stare, then quickly catching himself and stuttering before continuing seamlessly as I knew he would. My friend Anika, seated in one of the front rows, noticed and turned to see what had caught his attention. To her dismay, I was playing games with someone totally unattainable again. But she knew I thrived on academic validation, and this little crush of mine would only drive me to excel in more classes.

"Are you serious, Y/N? He's our professor." she exclaimed once.

"I know, but he's just... different."

"Different? Or is it the way he looks at you when you answer a question?"

"Maybe both. Besides, this crush is making me work harder. You can't argue with the results."

"Just be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

In fact, it drove me to do more than that. One time, Mr. Styles noticed my passion for poetry after I shamelessly defended the works of Sylvia Plath with a controversial view that modern poetry should not shy away from the stark realities of mental health. He gave me a few poetry anthologies and compilations, including his annotated copies. I fawned over reading his notes and even emailed him once, pretending that I had "accidentally" annotated something, forgetting it wasn’t my own copy after losing myself in the literature. He replied kindly:

Mr. Styles: "Please, feel free to annotate as much as you like. I would be honored to have your opinions inked on my favorite copies."

By the next semester, after encouraging me to join the poetry society, Mr. Styles nominated me for president, and I was thrilled to win. He insisted on celebrating, gently grasping my upper arm and smiling warmly as he said he expected nothing less. I brought a bottle of wine to his office, where he had asked me to meet him, only to find the entire poetry society there, ready to congratulate me. The gathering lingered for a few delightful hours before everyone left, leaving just the two of us to clean up.

"You really impressed everyone tonight, Y/N. Not that I'm surprised." He began once we were truly all alone.

"Thank you, Mr. Styles. I couldn't have done it without your support."

"Well, you deserve it. By the way, outside of class and school hours, you can call me Harry." He said in his thick Manchester accent.

"Only if you stop calling me Ms. Y/L/N." I joked.

"Hey! I only do that sometimes. Plus, I can't call out to you in class like, 'Y/N, will you read the next slide?' People will think..."

"...think I’m the teacher’s favorite?" I finished his sentence with a teasing smile.

I couldn’t take the lingering stares and supposedly accidental touches we were both guilty of. But I knew that if I really wanted this, if I wanted to be more than just a student he regretted being tempted by when I graduated, then I had to play the long game.

And indeed I did. I kept up my habit of always showing up well-dressed in elegant coats and well-fitting clothing. I accentuated my features with a light coat of makeup, even if I had to apply it on a bumpy bus ride to campus. I even signed up for his office hours, despite really not needing them, just to exchange thoughts and opinions under the guise of “wanting to make sure I'm on the right track.” I wanted him to get to know me more, to realize that despite my youth, I was mature and thoughtful.

At the start of the second year, he emailed me to come to campus a few times in August, a month before the start of term, to discuss my responsibilities as the founder of the debate team. The idea sparked in his mind after I excelled in the heated debate he chose to hold as our first-year final assessment. He was so in awe that he went as far as saying I could compete at a national level on the English debate team, which neither of us was certain of, but I accepted the compliment.

Our earlier meetings were spent cooped up in his office, reviewing why the last debate team failed almost a decade ago and planning the structure for the new team. We discussed everything from team dynamics to potential debate topics, ensuring we were prepared for any challenge.

On one of the hotter days in August, we took our meeting to the university courtyard, having grown tired of experiencing the last bursts of England’s so-called summer from his office window. It was a beautiful window, and a big one at that, but it didn’t compare to actually being outside. That day, I realized the majority of planning for the next few months had already been accomplished in our first few meetings, and I got the hint that he didn’t actually need my help now that I had settled everything I could that wasn’t on an administrative level. So naturally, I decided to have a little fun.

I was wearing penny loafers with black tailored pants that I got fitted for when I visited my mum in London in July. I had paired them with a light knit sweater that fit slightly loosely over my shoulders, often falling down to reveal a collarbone. When I saw him take off his blazer and loosen his tie, I took that as my green light to take off something of my own, knowing I was wearing a neat white tank top underneath. As I slipped the sweater off, covering my face with the fabric, I could see his face through the thin material, making out his features and briefly noticing his eyes on my body. Sitting up straight, I managed to remove the sweater from over my head neatly. Once he saw my face, a soft blush made it to his own.

"Did I mess up my hair?" I asked, as if I hadn’t planned on brushing down the strands that had likely gone astray or as if I was oblivious to the fact that I had just taken off my sweater in front of him.

"Um, yeah, a bit at the top," he said, chuckling as if he wasn’t just clearing his throat in a flustered manner before my face was revealed from under the sweater.

To my surprise, he reached out, inching himself closer to where I was sitting on the bench we shared. With two fingers, his index and middle, he gently brushed down the messy hair on either side of the top of my head.

"Thank you, Harry," I said softly.

However, nothing could have prepared me for what would happen later this year.

As the class settled down to receive their marks on the literature and theory criticism coursework, Mr. Styles walked in, dressed in a well-fitted navy suit with a crisp white shirt. He took off his coat and placed it on the edge of his desk, a departure from his usual habit of draping it over the back of his chair. He wasted no time before pulling out the papers from his leather satchel and making his way down the aisles of the lecture hall, passing out the papers to everyone. When he read out my name, I watched as his eyes searched for me across the hall, darting from one side of the room to the other. It was unlike me to skip his class, so he knew all he had to do was find me. I hadn’t planned this specific event, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless. Once he found me, he smiled sheepishly, yet much more subtly than he did when we were alone and made his way to me.

"Excellent work, Y/L/N," he said as he gently placed the papers on my desk. "I especially appreciate the effort of handwriting this," he remarked, although everyone knew he didn’t care if papers were written by hand or typed on a computer.

I had deliberately written my paper by hand after he replied to an email of mine. I had thanked him for letting me borrow his books, and his response was a charming note saying he’d enjoyed reading my annotations and adored my handwriting. For once, I was glad that my all-girls school had emphasized cursive writing, as I used it to add a romantic touch to my work.

When I finally read his comments and feedback, I was met with admiration and praise. In one of the margins, he had written, “Your insights are so compelling, it’s impossible not to fall in love with your analysis.” On the final page, at the bottom, he had added, “It’s a privilege to be your professor. Your brilliance shines so brightly that it’s clear this paper is a testament to your exceptional talent.”

Often times I worried that there actually was something going on between us, and that his praise and charming were remarks were not that of a proud professor, but of an infatuated man instead. So that day, I decided to address it.

As the lecture drew to a close, I lingered in my seat, carefully packing up my belongings with deliberate slowness. The classroom slowly emptied, the murmur of students’ conversations fading into the background as they made their way out. I wanted to be alone with Mr. Styles, to discuss something that had been weighing on my mind. By the time I made my way down the row of seats to his desk, the room was empty except for the two of us.

“Mr. Styles,” I began hesitantly, catching his eye as he gathered his papers. “I was hoping to ask you something.”

He looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Of course, go ahead. I’m actually glad you stayed behind. There’s something I’d like to ask you as well.”

A sudden rush of anxiety gripped me. The possibility of crossing a line—whether I had done so with my subtle flirtations or if he were about to make a move that could alter our dynamic—was almost too much to bear.

My fantasies of him flashed through my mind. I had dreamt of intimate moments with him like kissing him, waking up in his bed, or better yet, on the couch in his office after a late romantic night together. I had once pictured us sitting on the floor around his small coffee table as we did one time when they ordered takeout during one of our August meetings except this time I would slip my shoes off casually and find a way to stroke my foot, clothed thin leggings, against his leg, looking at him with doe eyes as I dare to not so innocently asks if he ever thought about me sexually.

Hell, I even pictured him going down on me after laying me on his desk and even touched myself to the idea of riding him while he sat on his office chair. I would sneak into the small space between him and his desk and shut off his laptop while he graded my papers, cockily saying “We already know I got an A” – despite my crippling self-doubt without tangible affirmation �� as I sit on his lap. In this fantasy he would laugh at my remark and gladly embrace me with a hand on my ass, the other intertwined among thick locks of my long hair, messing it up as I teasingly kiss him, ever so aware of the friction I’m creating between our crotches.

But still, to think that he would propose something to me in that moment, sexual or romantic, casually after class as if I haven’t been pining for two Octobers made me incredibly nervous.

I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice as I met his gaze. “Mr. Styles, well, first of all this has nothing to do with the actual course itself, maybe a bit but...” I trailed off “It’s... it’s been on my mind for a while.”

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his expression. “Sure, go ahead. I’m happy to answer anything.” He smiled shyly to comfort me.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding as I prepared to voice my concerns. “Do you think that maybe my behavior in class, my enthusiasm, or even my approach to your feedback has influenced you to… um… maybe to favor me? Over other students I mean.” I began nervously, desperately searching for an expression on his blank face.

“Maybe sometimes I get a little excited and forget that you are my professor and not my friend or something, I think I may have overstepped my boundaries but… but you treat me as an equal which, by the way, I have always greatly appreciated. I mean, it has offered me an opportunity to grow as a student like no other, but I still worry…”I trailed off, now a stern look evident on his face and possibly even hurt.

He paused for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he considered my words. “I appreciate your honesty and self-awareness,” he said finally, his voice steady but soft. “It’s clear that you’re passionate and dedicated, and I value that. But it’s important to remember that I strive to maintain fairness in all my interactions with students.”

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “I understand, Mr. Styles. I just want to make sure that if I take pride in these academic accomplishments… if I want to revel in the fact that I always receive praise from you and rarely any criticism – like todays feedback for example, which included no criticism, I want to make sure it is because I am worthy of it. And not because I won you over by involving myself in your extracurriculars or because we are… uh.. friendly.”

He looked at me with a reassuring smile, his gaze steady and sincere. “First of all, let me assure you that you are never inappropriate. The friendship we’ve developed is separate from our academic interactions. Outside of school hours, I call you by your first name to maintain that distinction. In the classroom, I evaluate you purely on your merit.”

He leaned forward slightly, his tone earnest. “The reason your feedback today contained no criticism is that your paper was truly flawless. If there had been any weaknesses or areas for improvement, I would have pointed them out without hesitation. I hold you in very high regard academically, and that respect extends to all aspects of your work. If I ever notice any shortcomings, I will address them so you have the opportunity to refine and grow.”

His expression softened, a touch of concern in his eyes. “The only issue I see here is that you are doubting yourself. Your achievements and the praise you receive are well-deserved. You have a remarkable ability, and I believe in your potential. My only hope is that you start to see in yourself what I see in you – a brilliant, dedicated student who deserves every bit of recognition they receive.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief and a renewed confidence. When I looked down at my lap I heard him continue:

“And of course I value the relationship we have fostered outside of class. Would I be the man I am today if you hadn’t introduced me to the wonders of Moroccan cuisine?” He tried to joke to ease the tension and unsurprisingly it worked as it earned him a soft chuckle of honest amusement.

“Theres the y/n I know and love” he bantered though I cant say my heart didn’t skip a beat at the mention of the word “love”.

“You know, there are many other cuisines you’re yet to try,” I said with a playful glint in my eye. “For someone who’s so well-traveled and cultured, it’s surprising how much you’ve missed out on when it comes to food.” I teased.

“Well, perhaps you’ll tell me all about it when we’re in Amsterdam for the debate competition,” he said with a smile, his eyes twinkling with genuine excitement.

I blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait, what? You secured that for us?” My voice wavered slightly as my heart leaped with joy. “I can’t believe it! I’m so excited. This is incredible news!”

He chuckled, clearly pleased with my reaction. “I thought you’d like that. It’s an excellent opportunity, and I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it.”

I couldn’t help but beam, my excitement bubbling over. “This is amazing, truly. Thank you so much!” I stepped closer, touched by his thoughtfulness and dedication.

As I reached out, our hands brushed briefly, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver through me. His gaze softened, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m just glad we get to share this experience together,” he said softly.

The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken words and mutual appreciation. I nodded, my heart full of gratitude and warmth. “Me too,” I murmured, feeling the depth of our connection more than ever before.

Time jump – December is getting ready for Christmas.

As we stepped into the hotel lobby, the excitement was palpable among the debate team. Amsterdam was already charming me, even though I’d only glimpsed it through the bus window. The streets were lined with picturesque canals and quaint buildings, each one more enchanting than the last. I couldn’t help but talk animatedly about how I’d dreamed of visiting the Netherlands ever since my father told me stories about the blooming flower fields when I was a child.

Harry, who had been sitting beside me on the bus, watched with a fond smile. “You really seem to love the city,” he said. “Maybe we could find a couple of free days between the training and the competition to visit the flower fields.”

My eyes widened in delight. “Really? That would be incredible. But managing a whole field trip with the debate team might be a bit complicated.”

He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, we could go alone. Just you and me. A little escape from the team.” He added. “We could explore some other things too if we’d like.”

The thought of spending time alone with him, wandering through a sea of flowers, made my heart race. I felt a warm blush creep up my cheeks. “That sounds amazing. I’d love that.”

When we checked into the hotel and were given our room keys, Anika, my vice president, and I realized that Harry and I had rooms on a separate floor. In fact, they were deluxe rooms though him and I booked standard rooms for everyone when we went over the budget. Anika seemed particularly perplexed by this.

“Why did you get such a nice room and I didn’t?” Anika questioned, her tone tinged with curiosity as she approached me in the lobby.

I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Maybe Mr. Styles thought I needed a little extra comfort. You know, as president” I joked, not really sure if that was the case. “Besides, he probably just had to make decisions based on what was available.” I found myself lying, knowing I was curious myself.”

Anika raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe he’s using the budget money to splurge on you. I’ve noticed you two have become quite friendly. Could it be that he has a thing for you?” she teased, knowing I have spent months pining and flirting.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think so, Anika. We’re friends, and that’s all it is. I don’t think he feels anything else.” I said, confidant of my words for the first time in this conversation. “Plus, you are the only person other than me and Harry that got her own room. Others are sharing and you likely have a king bed all to yourself.”

“Harry? Is that his name now?” she smirked. “I guess you forgot to tell me you are on a first name basis. Are you holding out on me Y/L/N?” she joked though she was never oblivious to the fact that you kept some encounters with Harry to yourself, as if it would fuel the fantasy somehow.

I raised an eyebrow and gave her a playful grin. “Oh, come on. You have to admit everyone in the poetry society calls him that when we are outside the university.” I said, knowing that it was only one guy who was a family friend of Harry’s who got the honor.

She chuckled, but there was a hint of curiosity in her gaze. “Right. But you can’t deny there’s something a bit… special about how you two interact. Just saying.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not holding my breath for anything more on this trip. We’re here for the debate, remember? That’s the focus. But if anything happens later…” I shrugged playfully as she returned my knowing smile.

“Fair enough. Just keep your eyes open anyway, okay? Sometimes things happen when you least expect them to.”

I heard Harry calling my name from the end of the hall. I turned around to see him walking towards me with a thoughtful expression.

“Hey, do you still want to gather the debate team for a brief practice session before the afternoon debate?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of concern.

I shook my head, smiling. “No, no need. You were right; they need a break. Plus, everyone has their notecards and seems prepared.”

Harry nodded, his smile relaxing into a satisfied grin. “Alright then. Let’s head to the elevator; it’ll be a bit quieter now anyway.”

We walked to the elevator together, and once inside, he pressed the button for my floor. The confined space seemed to amplify the gentle hum of the elevator, making it feel intimate.

Harry glanced at me with a soft smile, his eyes lingering a moment longer than usual. “Your hair looks different today. Did you do something special with it?” he asked, his voice carrying a playful undertone.

I felt a tinge of embarrassment, my cheeks warming slightly. “I just blow-dried it differently since I was in a rush this morning,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Harry’s smile grew, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Well, it looks beautiful. I wouldn’t have guessed it was rushed.”

His compliment made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Harry. That makes me feel a lot better about this hectic morning” I tried to divert the conversation, feeling nervous at his focus on me.

“Yeah, well, at least you have matching socks,” he joked, and before I could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he lifted his foot, revealing his own mismatched socks with a playful grin.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You and your accidental fashion choices,” I said, shaking my head with a smile, remembering that time I complimented his shoes only to find out he ordered the wrong ones online and couldn’t get them returned. He looked handsome in them anyway, I had told him.

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. And besides, it’s a good thing someone’s got their fashion game on point around here.” He said, brushing off the fact that it was a rushed accident.

I playfully nudged him. “Well, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. And for the record, I do have matching socks today, just in case you were wondering.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he looked at me, a warmth in his gaze that made my heart flutter. “Well, I must say, your socks are a lot less distracting than mine.”

I chuckled, feeling the tension between us ease into something more comfortable and light-hearted.

As the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to my floor, Harry didn’t make a move to exit. Instead, he turned to me with a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “Let me walk you to your room. It’s the least I can do. After all, it’s not every day I get to be a gentleman,” he said, completely ignoring the fact that his room was directly across from the elevator.

I laughed softly, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re too kind, Harry. It’s just down the hall here,” I said, gesturing toward my door, which was a short distance away from his.

As we walked together down the hallway, the atmosphere felt lighter, filled with a quiet, pleasant tension. Harry’s presence beside me was comforting, and I found myself appreciating the little things—like how he occasionally glanced my way, as if trying to make the moment last just a bit longer.

When we reached my door, Harry reached out and brushed his hand lightly against mine as he opened the door for me. “Even so, a little extra time with you—well, when else can I talk about my accidental shenanigans and have someone listen intently?” His voice was low and warm, and his gaze lingered on me with an intensity that sent a thrill down my spine.

I felt a flutter in my chest at his words but remained blissfully unaware of the deeper implications behind his gaze. “Well,” I said, smiling as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Thanks for walking me. It’s always nice to have a bit of company, especially when the company is as pleasant as yours.”

Harry’s smile grew softer, and he took a step back, still holding my gaze. “Anytime, y/n. I’ll see you in a few hours. Get some rest.

“You too, Harry.” I said as he walked back to his own room.

——————————————————————

PART TWO IS NOW UP 🌷���

[the-oblivious-writer]

After the Storm |One-shot [1]|

Tara Carpenter x Spider-Woman!Reader

One-shot One: Vigilantes & Branzino

Summary: Tara invites you over for dinner in hopes you and Sam could get off on the right foot. But of course, things don't go her way

Warning(s): Swearing, police!Sam, & vigilante slander (?)

Notes: Here's that one-shot I promised and for quick background context the other people at the table during dinner are: Mindy, Chad, Anika and Quinn

Masterlist

“Hi.” You heard out of the blue; you looked up from your book to find Tara looking at you as you took out your headphones.

“Hi,” you replied with a small smile.

“Do you like branzino?” She randomly asked. You furrowed your eyebrows a bit, tilting your head as you looked a little confused. 

“You know, like a fish?” 

“Mhm, no, no,” you let out a small chuckle, “I know. I know,” you shrugged. 

“Well, if you want, you can come to this address at eight o’ clock?” She proposed as she wrote something down on a piece of paper, soon handing it to you. 

“My roommate, Quinn, is making branzino. She’s been testing out these, like, new recipes and stuff and tonight is branzino night so, yeah…that was a lot of unnecessary information, sorry,” Tara let out an embarrassed laugh as you only looked at her with fondness.

“Don’t be, I like hearing your voice,” you told her genuinely, now looking down at the piece of paper. Tara looked away as she felt heat rush to her cheeks. She looked back at you as she wore a bright smile.

“Oh, and it’s apartment twenty sixteen…I didn’t write that part down—I don’t know why I didn’t,” she said, growing a bit flustered. 

“I’ll remember it,” you told her, looking up from the paper and at her.

“Okay…” Suddenly she could hear her name being called from a few feet away. She looked over to see Chad, Mindy and Anika, waving at her. She waved back before looking back at you. 

“I gotta go but, uh, twenty sixteen!” She called out as she walked over to her friends.

You responded by tapping your temple with your index finger, looking at her for a couple more seconds before you continued reading. 

—

Tara was sitting on her bed, looking at her laptop when she heard soft knocks on her window. She looks up from her laptop to find you on her fire escape. A smile grazes her face as she puts down her laptop and goes to her window to open it. 

“Hi,” she greeted after sliding the window up. You reply with a loving grin and Tara can’t help but giggle. “How did you get out there?”

“Uh, fire escape. Your doorman’s intimidating,” you responded as you came inside the room.

“It’s twenty stories.” 

You looked at her for a couple seconds before saying, “Yeah..”

You were now fully in her room, standing in front of her. You looked around and wore a smile; the room felt like Tara. “So this is your room?”

“Yes, this is my room,” Tara answered, looking at you as your eyes wandered the room.

“Of course…it’s yours,” you add, pulling a laugh from the younger Carpenter.

“Oh hey, uh, I got your sister, uh, these,” you told her as you took off your backpack and took out a bouquet of flowers. Well…if they even still qualify as such.

Tara saw you take out the damaged bouquet; the flowers were bent, each one going in different directions, and pedals were clearly missing. But you somehow still made them beautiful to her.

“Oh—oh lovely.”

“Yeah, they’re beautiful right?”

“They’re beautiful.”

“They—they were nice,” you spoke before raising the bouquet to cover your face in a poor attempt to hide the embarrassed smile you wore.

“No, they’re beautiful,” she said as she looked at your embarrassed state.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized under the flowers. 

“No, it’s impressive. They actually held together very well,” Tara nodded as she spoke, trying not to laugh any more. 

“I’m gonna keep these…” Tara let out a short laugh, giving you a smile that you’ve grown to admire so much.

As you put the flowers back in your back, you heard Tara speak again. “Do you have your suit?” She asked, catching you off guard. Suit? Did she see it?

You instantly lift your head up, looking at her. “My suit?”

“It’s for dinner… Are—are you gonna wear that? A dress is fine too—” Just then the door opens and Sam's voice could be heard.

“Hey, Tar,” Sam's expression changes when her eyes meet you, clearly not expecting you to be in Tara’s room. Tara’s eyes go wide and your mouth is slightly open as you both look at the police captain. 

She makes a couple steps forward before finally saying, “You must be Y/N.”

“Sam, this is Y/N.” Tara looks over at you, silently begging you to say something.

You hesitantly look at Tara then back at Sam, not sure if you’re reading the singles right. “Hey, nice to meet you ma’am,” you finally said as you walked over to Sam with your hand raised. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sam responded as she shook your hand, voice lacking enthusiasm. You ignored the look she gave, only responding with a short yet soft smile.

“Dinner’s ready,” the police captain informed, “hope you like branzino.”

“Who doesn’t?”

—

You awkwardly poke at the fish with your knife, not really sure where you were even supposed to be cutting; how the hell were you supposed to do this? 

Anika looked over at you as you struggled to figure it out. “You're having trouble there, aren’t you; the head goes on the other—Chad, help Tara’s friend with her fish,” she said, causing you to grow even shyer. 

“Oh, I uh, I have no idea” you awkwardly chuckle, putting a timid on your chest.

“First time,” Chad said with a single nod as he began to cut your fish.

“Branzino,” you heard Tara whisper at you from across the table

“Hey, Sam, did you catch that spider chick yet?” Mindy inquired, you slowly lifted your gaze and averted it to the police captain who sat by you.

“No, we haven't caught her yet. But we will. She’s an amature who’s assaulting civilians in the dead of night, she’s clumsy, she leaves clues, but still dangerous.” After you swallow the bite you took of your fish, you look at her deep in thought.

“She���s assaulting—she’s assaulting people,” you say, as if absolutely stunned by the accusation—in a way you were. 

Sam slightly furrowed her eyebrows at you but before she could get a word out, you continued. “I mean, I saw that video,” you do a slight nod, “with—with her and the car thief.” Tara watched as she knew what was about to unfold, taking a deep breath in and out.

“And—and I think most people would say she was…providing a public service.”

“Most people would be wrong,” Sam responded with certainty in her voice, “If I wanted the car thief off the street, he’d already be off the street.” 

“So why wasn’t he then?” You asked, coming off as more of a smart ass than intended. Tara let out an awkward laugh as she felt the tension thicken with your response. 

“Let me illuminate, you see, the car thief was leading us to the people who run the entire operation. It's been a six month long sting. It’s called strategy—I’m sure you’re aware of the term strategy? You’ve probably heard about that in school?” 

You nodded along to the police captain’s words before answering with a quiet, “Yeah.”

Tara looked over at Quinn with a look that read “You’re kidding me, right?” Quinn tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Well, obviously she didn’t know you had a plan,” you suddenly add before taking another bite of the branzino.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this case; you know something we don’t know? I mean, whose side are you on here?” Sam’s voice slightly raised as she spoke. 

“No, I’m not on anyone’s side; I saw a video on the internet–”

“Oh, you saw a video on the internet. Well, then the case is closed.”

Tara ran her hands down her face as Chad and Mindy watched with amused expressions.

“Well, no I’m just sayin’ that if you watch the video—maybe I can send you a link. It looks like—it looks like,” Sam slightly raised her hand to you, not wanting to hear anymore of this. “She’s really trying to help you.”

“Yeah, sure on the internet she must be made to look like some sort of masked hero or something.”

“No, no, no, I’m not saying she’s a hero, I don’t think she’s a hero at all–”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying she’s tryna’ help, but it looks like she’s trying to do something maybe the police can’t.”

“Something the police can’t?” Sam’s expression somehow grew even more frustrated.

“I don’t know.” You responded, hiding behind bites of your branzino.

“What do you think we do all day? You think we just sit around, eating donuts, with our thumbs planted firmly up our asses?”

“Sammy,” Tara sighed, putting down her utensils. Quinn gave Sam an unimpressed look as she said, “Sam,” in a firm tone. 

“Up your what, Sam?” Mindy asked, earning her a light slap to the shoulder from Anika as Chad did a terrible job of containing his laughter.

“I think she stands for what you stand for, ma’am,” you finally say. “Protecting innocent people from bad guys.”

“I stand for law and order, kid. That’s what I stand for, okay? I wear a badge; this chick wears a mask like a—like an outlaw. She’s hunting down a bunch of criminals that all look the same, like she’s got some personal vendetta. But she’s not protecting innocent people, Ms. Y/L/N.” Sam’s words came crashing down with each one she spoke.

Suddenly, Tara puts her fork back down and pushes her chair back to stand up. “Let's get some air, Y/N.” You mentally curse yourself for screwing up dinner.

“Sam, we need to talk.”

“Yes we do,” Sam replied before taking a sip from her glass.

“Thank you for having me. I’m sorry if I insulted you—it was not my intention,” you apologized before getting up from your seat.

“You're welcome.” Sam replied before harshly placing down her cup.  

“The branzino was really good, thank you,” you complimented, earning a smile from Quinn. “You're welcome,” you heard Quinn say as you walked away from the table, following Tara to wherever she was leading you.

—

Your hands were in your pocket as you followed Tara closer out on the roof. “Well that was something,” Tara finally spoke, earning a timid chuckle from you. 

“Sorry…you know I thought she was gonna arrest me at one point?” You both looked over the edge, looking at the city streets below you.

“Nah, I wouldn’t let her arrest you.”

You quietly sigh, leaning forward and resting your forehead. Tara looks at you, thinking to herself before asking, “What happened to your face?”

“I wanna tell you something,” you immediately reply.

“Oh,” Tara lightly laughed. “Okay.”

You both turned and faced each other, now getting to admire the other’s eyes. You exhaled, struggling to muster the right words to tell her. How do you tell the woman of your dreams you’re Spider-Woman?

“I’ve been bitten.”

Tara couldn’t help the love struck smile that grew on her face as she softly responded, “So have I…”

Once you realized what she meant you let out a light, “Oh,” and smiled. She slowly leaned closer and you did the same but stopped yourself once you remembered what you were doing. 

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay—I gotta tell this one thing, I gotta tell this one thing, I gotta tell you this one thing, and it’s about the—the vigilante and the car thief, alright?” Tara’s expression turned to disappointment; the conversation wasn’t exactly what she had hoped it would be.

“Oh, okay,” Tara backed away a bit.

You slightly furrowed your eyebrows at her. “No, no, no, no, no,” you repeatedly said as you shook your head and waved your hand. “No, no, don’t–”

“Okay.”

“Okay, no. Forget that. I’m not gonna talk about that. I’m gonna talk about me, okay?”

“What about you?”

“It’s… I wish I could just,” you gestured to your mouth with your hands, “I can’t. It’s hard to say.”

“Just say it,” Tara said, giving you a comforting look. 

“No, no, no, no…” You turned over, leaning to look over the edge.

“Just say it…”

You only responded with a deep exhale, not being able to spit out the words.

“What?” Tara leaned over to you, and you turned your head to look at her before shaking your head and turning back. 

Tara lightly rolled her eyes, “Nothing, forget it,” she let out defeatedly as she began to walk away. 

In a split second decision, you impulsively shot a web at Tara and pulled her back to you. She landed in your arms, holding onto them as one hand held onto her waist and the other reached up to her neck. 

She looked at you with a stunned expression but before she could get a word out, you softly pulled her in by the back of her neck and your lips made contact. Your other hand reaches up from her waist to cup her jaw. You both melted into the kiss as it grew deeper and deeper with each second. 

You both pulled away to catch your breath. “You’re–” 

“Shut. Up.” You interrupted before pulling her back into the kiss. 

Tara smiled into that kiss and held onto your collar, pulling you in as close as she could. Your hands moved down to her waist as her other hand moved to wrap around your neck, pulling you in more.

“Tara?” Somebody called out, but you both were too distracted to notice.

“Tara–” You both finally heard, pulling away as Mindy stood at the rooftop door.

“Uh, Sam wants you to come inside—right away.”

“Okay…”

Mindy looked over at Tara when she realized she hadn’t moved at all, “Tara, come on. You can make out later.”

Tara rolled her eyes as she felt her cheeks heat up. “I’m coming,” Tara sighed, moving away from the rooftop’s ledge as Mindy went back inside. 

Tara and you shared a single look before she let out a laugh of disbelief, clearly not expecting this to be the night she finds out you’re Spider-Woman—or any night for that matter. 

You start to follow her when suddenly your senses go off, causing you to turn to your right and look out at the city. A city that needs you.

Tara stopped and turned when she realized you were no longer following her. She saw you looking out at the city as police sirens rang. You took a few steps as your eyes never pulled away from ahead of you. Then suddenly, you jumped off the roof as if it were nothing. 

Tara lightly shook her head as she watched this.

“Oh, I’m in trouble…”

-----------

A/N: The way I genuinely laughed when Pete said he'd send Captain Stacy a link 😭

[nottturbae]

Hii can I request Ethan x Reader where Reader is siblings with mindy and chad and chad is very protective over her after Amber breaking her heart last year but her and Ethan discovered feelings for eachother and sneaking around to makeout and stuff until chad catches them but ends up saying “I knew it”😭

Thank you so much for requesting!!! here you go!

I knew it.

Content warning: making out, some cursing, mentions of death (ambers), mentions of throwing someone off a bridge (ethan).

Ethan Landry x Meeks-martin!reader

word count: 1.8k words

Summary: Being siblings with Chad and Mindy was not easy. With Chad always over your shoulder and Mindy constantly criticizing anyone you showed interest in it just wasn’t easy. You knew they were just looking out for you, but it was getting annoying. When you and Ethan discovered your feelings for each other you both decided it was best to keep it a secret (or at least tried to)

༺☆༻

It was just after 11 pm when the party kicked into full gear, Y/n, Anika, and Tara were sitting on the couch talking. 

“So y/n how's finding a boyfriend going?” Tara teased. 

“Oh amazing, it's not like I have two maniacs breathing down my neck every time i talk to someone.” Y/n replied sarcastically while taking a drink.

"oh common y/n, you know they're just looking after you." said Anika while standing up to go look for her girlfriend. "Hey, I'm gonna go search for Mindy, don't have too much fun without me." 

“I think we should be saying that to you,” said Tara while wiggling her eyebrows. “Shut up Tara, bye Anika, tell Mindy I'm probably gonna head out soon.”  

“will do, be safe” she said as she walked away.

“Wait what why, I thought you were going to see if you could find someone tonight?” Tara started searching the room, “what about that guy?” she said pointing to a guy who turned around and walked up the stairs with a girl. “Tara, he has a girlfriend by the looks of it, and I guess I'm just not feeling it tonight.” you said while standing up.

You spotted Ethan just across the room, he looked uncomfortable standing next to Chad. “Well if you are going to leave text me when you get home ok?” “Of course Tara, I'm gonna go tell Chad.”

“While you do that I’m gonna go find another drink. I'll see you later.” “bye tara,” you muttered while walking towards Chad and Ethan. 

Ethan noticed you right away, his expression quickly changing from a forced smile to a real one. 

“Hey y/n.” he said. “Hey eth, Hey chad, I’m not feeling it tonight, so i think i’m gonna head out”

“Woah wait you're not leaving without someone walking you home.” Chad said. “Chad, I'll be fine plus everyone is enjoying the party. I'm not gonna force someone to leave with me.” 

“I'll go-” 

 “I'll walk her home,” Ethan said quickly. 

“Are you sure? I mean-” said Chad

“No it's okay, I don't mind, I'm not really feeling the party either.”

“Okay I guess, i'll see you guys later text me when you both get home,” Chad said skeptically.

And with that ethan grabbed his coat and you, and walked out the door and into the night.

“So how come you wanted to leave?,” you asked quietly. “I don’t know, Chad was trying to get me to talk to girls, and I just couldn't, ” he replied. 

As you two continued to walk into the chilly night you started to shiver, “are you cold? Here take this,” he said while handing you his coat. “Are you not cold?,” you asked while hesitating to take the coat. “Nah i'm like a giant heater I swear,” he answered back while pushing it into your hands. “Ok, but if you get cold i'm giving it back,” you replied while stopping to put it on. 

As you continued to walk you both fell into a peaceful silence. Eventually you made it to your apartment, “well this is me,would you like to come inside?,” you said while unlocking the door. “Sure, I have nowhere to be.” 

“Make yourself at home,do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? More alcohol?” you asked while walking to the kitchen. “Waters fine, thank you.”

"Okay, i'm gonna text chad I made it home okay then after we can watch a movie, sound good?"

"sounds good to me what do you want to watch?"

"oo have you seen super dark times?" "no i haven't is it good?" he asked while pulling up Hulu. "it's one of my favorite movies," you replied while handing him his water.

You sat down on the couch next to Ethan. You could feel the heat radiating off of his legs. "i'm gonna go change ill be right back."

"alright do you want me to pause the movie?"

"nah i've seen it a millions times before its fine." "okay," he said while looking at the screen.

You walked into your room, you found some comfortable clothes and quickly changed into them. After you finished you walked into your bathroom to begin removing your makeup.

'all done,' you thought while walking out of the bathroom and back to the living room where Ethan was.

"hey y/n, i have a question?" Ethan asked nervously. "whats up?," you replied while sitting down.

"how come you don't have a boyfriend? or girlfriend?," he trailed on, "i mean you're really pretty and i'm sure you have guys lining up to ask you out. I just never see you with anyone? I hope i'm not overstepping any boundaries by as-"

"eth, you're not overstepping anything," you interupted while turning towards him.

In the dim room you could make out Ethan looking at you. "and I guess since what happened with Amber I just haven't been trying, also Chad and Mindy are constantly on my ass about people I find interest in," you paused for a second. "what about you though, I never see you with anyone Chad tries to set you up with?"

"haha keyword try, I have my eye on someone, but I'm almost positive she does not like me back," he quietly admitted. "is it the girl from our econ class? the blonde you're always staring at?" He quickly looked at you, " i do not stare and no it's not her," he gasped out between laughs. "whats so funny? and you totally do stare," you replied through your own giggles.

All of a sudden Ethan stopped laughing and looked at you, "y/n can i be honest?," " of course eth, im always here to listen," you spoke while pausing the movie. "okay but what i'm gonna tell you might affect our friendship, and i don't want that because i value our friendship a lot and i don't want to lose you and-" He trailed on. Your heart started racing.

'what does he mean by ruin our friendship?'

"Ethan hey, nothing can ruin our friendship okay?," you expressed to stop his rambling. "okay," he paused looking away. "i like you." he whispered so quietly. So quietly that if you hadn't paused the movie you would not have heard, but you did. You heard ethan admit he likes you. You stared at Ethan, waiting for him to say something else, but he didn't.

On the other hand Ethan was freaking out. He could not believe he just admitted that, out loud, in front of you. Impatiently he waited for your response, quickly looking to you to see any sort of reaction. Anything, but he got nothing you stared at him in shock.

"oh eth, i didn't know you felt that way." you quickly spoke out noticing ethan putting his shoes on. "wait where are you going?!," you asked frantically. "i'm going to head back to my apartment," he whispered embarrassed. " why? don't you want to talk about this," grabbing his wrist to stop him from opening the door, sadly you didn't succeed . He stopped his movements and turned to you while looking at his feet. "there is nothing to talk about, i just stupidly admitted i liked you and you don't feel the same way. I'm sorry but i think it's best i leave," he explained.

"eth stop, who said i didnt like you?" "well you did?" he questioned still looking at his feet "no i didnt? you didnt even let me answer!" you exclaimed. "i can tell just by looking at your face and how you reacted, you dont like me and thats okay i mean i ge-"

"ethan shut up and kiss me." you demanded. "what..," he started but was quickly interrupted by you pulling him down by his collar and to your lips. The kiss was sweet and soft but also rough. Both tongues fighting for dominance, somehow you managed to gain control. The world suddenly stopped, it was like it was just you two in the whole world. Softly you two kissed until he pulled away to catch his breath. Both of you panting and trying to catch your breath, you giggled softly.

"what's so funny?" he whispered while chuckling himself. "oh nothing, but ethan i really do like you. I was just shocked, i never thought anything would happen."

ethan shook his head and replied, "you didnt think anything was gonna happen? i had to worry about you not liking me back, and chad and mindy." "pfft i wouldn't worry, but if you want we can keep it a secret." you whispered quietly.

"pfft too late," a sudden voice from behind ethan piped up. Ethan turned to face the door and saw Mindy, Chad, Anika, and Tara standing at the door. Anika and Tara were giggling quietly, knowing what was about to happen. Mindy continued on, " did you really think you could hide that from us?"

"well i did before you idiots showed up to my apartment," you fired back. "hey dont forget i live here too, sis," Mindy snapped. "whatever Minds."

"hey wait ethan? seriously y/n!?" Mindy exclaimed. "yes ethan, why does it matter so much to you. You're not the one dating him." you paused for a second thinking over your next words. "No, no you know what? i'm sick of you and Chad constantly on my ass ever since Amber did what she did. It is so frustrating why cant you just leave me alone!?" Mindy stared at your for a second before storming off into her room. Anika quickly slipped past Chad and made her way to mindy's room. It was quiet for a moment and then Chad sighed.

"Y/n, we are just trying to look out for you. What amber did left a mark on all of us, especially you. We just don't want anything to happen to you." Chad breathed out. "i know chad, but it's annoying. I know what i'm doing just trust me."

"ok, i'll tell mindy to back off, but know one thing Ethan, You hurt her physically, or emotionally. I will hunt you down and hurt just like you did to her." Ethans eyes widened for moment before he jokingly said, "trust me chad, i will throw myself of a bridge before i ever think about hurting her."

"good," chad beamed before turning to walk away from the apartment with Tara. "oh and by the way," he stopped his movements and turned back to look at the two. "i knew it."

Ethan looked bewildered, chad couldn't help but laugh at the look of Ethans face. "see you guys tomorrow!!" he called over his shoulder while walking away.

Standing in the hallway, you both turned to look at each other softly giggling. Slowly you brought him back into the apartment and your bedroom where you both got under the covers. Your legs intertwined with your head on his chest.

"goodnight eth, im glad you walked me home."

"goodnight y/n, no one is more glad than me that i walked you home."

You both giggled before closing your eyes and dozing off listening to each others breaths.

--

--

--

--

a/n: Hii! this is the first request i got. My writing is a little rusty, but I hope you enjoyed. I was going to turn this into two parts, but i decided just to make it one. Thank you for reading!

Request rules here: request rules

Request here: Request here !!

[xhoky]

° French teacher.

° gives their students sweets or handmade toys if they are doing progress in learning.

° that one kind teacher everyone loves.

° Flirts with literature teacher in French (doesn't know he actually understands them, a little bit, but understand).

° sticks with literature and art teachers mostly, but at the same time has a good relationship with all teachers.

° Dream has a crush on Ani and they knows it.

°- "who taught you this word?.."

°- "ne jure pas!"

° "tea-party for all teachers!"

° fashion.

° can be strict sometimes, but only if students don't want to behave. (Their and Dream's classrooms right near each other, so.. students better behave on Anika's lessons).

° their classroom is always fancy and colorful. Based on the current season. Ani will always put some handmade stuff on the windows, desks, blackboard and walls.

° wanted to be designer, became teacher.

° lily in Their head is handmade too. It's national symbol flower of France!

°- "I do not accept 'baguette' as an answer to every question in the test."

°- "please behave."

°- "I won't say Mr. Dream or Mr. Finch that you didn't behave, but you should say sorry to your classmate that you upset."

°- they would say the same "behave" to teachers too.

°- "it's not the place to have arguments with each other, let's just enjoy our company and tea together!"

° Error agrees with Ani.

° Ani as healthy as other teachers in this au. No one dies.

°- "life is a little bit too short to listen to anybody's opinion, just be yourself and do whatever you like."

°- they are that one teacher who's clothes are very random, but also quite good looking together.

° enjoy walking around school when have free time, never sits in classroom for too long.

° Also like to annoy Ink (sees him as their friend.)

°- "bonjour, Ink ça va?"

- you do know i fucking don't understand you, do you?

(I think i unlearned how to draw and also loosing some brain cells hhhhhh.)

[youareiron-andyouarestrong]

💙for kanej, let’s goooooooo 🫶

drunken/tipsy kiss

For the record, Kaz is blaming Jesper for this one.

To be fair, Kaz blames Jesper for a lot of things. Like teaching Inej's male cousins the words to that stupid Kaelish love song, "Black is the Color," or some such thing, or insisting on trying to introduce color to Kaz's wardrobe, or the mangy orange and white cat that's taken up residence in the Slat. Granted, the last thing is not really Jesper's fault, but given time, and the proper motivation, Kaz is confident he can pin the blame on Jesper somehow.

Not this time, though. No, this time, this whole stupid situation is entirely Jesper's fault.

Jesper's fault, and the homemade moonshine that Colm Fahey brews with peaches and strawberries and wild ginger. He sent Jesper a jar of the stuff for the winter Kerst celebration, and now it seems like the entire Slat is near falling down drunk.

"It was one jar," Kaz says now, his tongue oddly thick. He hadn't been able to escape getting a glass shoved into his hand, so he'd looked at the seemingly innocuous pinkish-gold liquid and knocked it back without even thinking. He's had paint thinner that's milder than whatever brew this is. "How does one jar do all this?"

Inej is listing besides him, her long braid nearly coming undone. She says wisely, "Jesper says his da brews it with the fermented honey water. To give it, it, you know. Extra strength."

"All the Saints and their ugly mothers," Kaz mumbles and Inej swats at him, and misses by a mile. Which is a sign of just how potent this stuff is.

Inej had accepted a glass of moonshine from Jesper, tempered with water, and she'd danced with nearly everyone in the Slat--all the young kids, Anika, Pim, Roeder, Jesper, even Wylan, who let Inej drag him away from the upright piano someone shoved into the corner. No one's played it until tonight, until Wylan has started playing. Then someone got out a tin pennywhistle and another person dragged in a fiddler player from one of musician troupes that walk the Barrel busking inside, and the moonshine had flowed like water.

Music, wild and raucous and only slightly out of tune, poured out of the Slat, and the Dregs had danced like madmen, like heathens, howling at the winter moon. Kaz sat by the wall and watched; no one would ask Dirtyhands to dance, even if they didn't account for his leg. But he didn't mind watching Inej dance, her hair whipping around her, as she used her hands and feet to tell a story of a Saint defeating a monster on a mountain. Her hair is curtain of black silk in the light, and he wants to bury his face in it.

He blinks at the unguarded thought, shifting as Inej lists further and further, leaning into him more fully. "Sorry, sorry," she says, her s's oddly, delightfully sharp. Like a piece of ginger candy. "The room's dancing."

"The room's not dancing, you are," he says nonsensically and then gives up on shifting altogether. Inej is pressed up against him now, their layers of clothing between them prevent any skin on skin touch, but his heart pounds at her proximity anyways. He suspects that no matter how long he's gotten used to touching her, it always will.

"Did you like it?" Inej asks, a little dizzily. "Seeing me dance," she clarifies when he doesn't answer right away. "I didn't have the bell anklets, or the finger cymbals, but I think I got all the steps right. From what I could remember. Mama would do it better, though. Or Cousin Kathani."

Kaz couldn't tell her what they could do any better than Inej, and says so. Inej beams up at him, that smile he'd crawl over hot coals for, and for one glorious moment, leans her head on his shoulder. "One day I'll take you," she says, as the room continues to waltz and weave around them. "And you'll see me dancing. Properly, with jasmine and everything."

Later, he can blame this on the moonshine. Or the dancing room. Or the wild laughter and music still going around them, sealing them away from the outside world, and whatever consequences face them out there. But he finds himself pressing his lips to the crown of her head, lingering on the silky smooth strands, the scent of moonshine and the gardenia oil she uses on her hair. It lasts no more than second, but Inej's hands curl in the fabric of his waistcoat. Her breath catches in her throat, not in pain or fear, just dazed wonder.

He holds the moment as long as he dares, like a magician dragging out the climax of a trick before he releases the tension and settles back against the wall. Inej is still in his arms, and the room dances on all around them. Just this once, he can give Jesper and the moonshine credit.

[anamoon63]

Zeke: Well, being a kid sucks! Lukas: Yeah, wait until you're a teenager. Anika: Mom and Dad are acting weird. Lukas: Mom and dad are weird, you should be used to it by now.

Zoe: Ok, I take it this isn't the place or the time, so we'll talk about this later, okay? Allan: That's an excellent idea, dear. Zoe: Just promise me you will answer all my questions with truth. Allan: I promise.

Allan: Now, how about we forget adult stuff, and we all go to the beach? Zoe: What will we do there, tan in the sun, collect shells or build sandcastles? Allan: All that. And we'll also swim, ride jet skis, and snorkel. Lukas: Under the burning sun? I think I'll pass.

Allan: Ok, I'll look up what other things to do in Sulani. Let's see, sailing, surfing, moto skiing, swimming with dolphins… Zoe: Uh, Al? Allan: Yes? Zoe: How about we let the kids go do all those things and you and I stay here, erm, relaxing in the jacuzzi?

[honorarysimp]

need to know what r’s life was like in new york?? and how tara reacts to it all. i honestly always wondered about it. for some reason i had it in my head that r was always on the move for their detective (ik they’re a private investigator but it’s late and im tired) work and it’s all they’ve ever known. maybe started from a young age like in a good girls guide to murder and just got sucked in the way pip did. maybe they just could never escape it, it always found a way back to them but they never considered a life outside of it. just figured they never had a family to really go back to and had a few colleagues here and there and some of them could be considered friends but even then they’d always be tied to work and would be comparing cases and stuff. that’s just always the vibe i’ve gotten with how nonchalant they could be and how you’ve written her. i’ve also always wondered what got them started. like the specifics of it. was it just a general interest? did they have some personal event happen that they’ve always suck answers to but never found and so now they hope to help others? sorry i’m just extremely invested and absolutely adore this work. you did an amazing job and the entire time i was reading i kept thinking about how this needs to be a movie.

This is so beautiful and in depth, I’ll be honest when I started writing detective, I hadn’t given much thought to their background. But if I WERE to deep dive and get into depth on it, it was roughly “didn’t know their parents” and later found out they died under mysterious circumstances. Thus the birth of some scheisty private investigating, and then just sticking to it.

But let’s be honest, your idea is by far superior, and if I do decide to write it I’d be more than happy to give you all credit and build off this.

And hey, Detective has friends alright? You didn’t think I just forget about the Bailey’s and Anika did you?

[bronzetomatoes]

TONIGHTS YOUR LAST CONCERT??

Ohhhh Anika I'm patting your back in sympathy. godspeed, commit every moment to memory :,]]] you got this dude, this is a huge thing for a senior and I get you

THANKS SO MUCHHH!!! Honestlyyy the biggest deal is like. Ugh. We have such a close-knit band community at this school, and our band teacher is the only one we have for all 4 years of high school so I'm gonna miss everyone so much 😭😭

[wexarethewalkingxdead]

Domesticity meme for Daryl & Anika

domesticity meme - If you can think of a ship, i will answer these questions for them - @ghostofwinter

who cooks normally?: Both.

how often do they fight?: They squabble more than fight.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: Daryl hunts. Anika does girly stuff. (or that's what Daryl thinks).

nicknames for each other?: Ani for her (from Daryl), Sweetie for him (from Anika)

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: Neither since there is no paying for dinner in the zombie apocalypse.

who steals the covers at night?: Anika.

what would they get each other for gifts?: Daryl would get her something little that reminded him of her when he was out looking for supplies and things. She'd get him more bolts for his crossbow when she lucked up and found them.

who remembers things?: Daryl.

who cusses more?: Daryl.

what would they do if the other one was hurt?: Daryl would do whatever he could to protect her and get her help. Anika would do the same for him. The only difference is she can't carry him like he could carry her.

who kissed who first?: Anika.

who made the first move?: Anika.

who started the relationship?: Anika.

[writing-rat]

Cuddles at Night Time

Pairing: Sam and Tara

Content warning: Nightmares, Fluff

Summary: Both girls have a nightmare. They decide to cuddle

It was a quiet day for the Carpenter siblings. They had an uneventful day really. Tara finished her film class as she was tired. She hadn’t been sleeping well and she knew Sam hadn’t too but was too embarrassed to go for help.

Sam however did have an eventful day. She had finished her therapy session, which was much more successful than the previous ones and she was even given psychotics. She was soon going over to her apartment as she was dropping her bag and shoes down about to flop on the couch. The spot was already taken though due to Tara being flopped down facefirst. “Stolen my spot hm?” she asked. Tara jumped before she looked over at her sister and grinned. “Nope,” she spoke before she was fully flopped down again. Sam rolled her eyes with a smile before she was going over to the other couch and flopped there. “Good day?” Tara then muffled out. “Nope, just therapy and work. You?” She aksed. “Just college and that was all,” Tara answered. Sam nodded.

Soon they were getting up as they were going over to the DVD section. “What you studying in class right now?” Sam asked, wondering of they had the film needed for the class. “Titanic. Why?” she asked as she was picking up The Babadook. Sam then grabbed Titanic. Rolling her eyes, Tara grinned as she sat down. “Titanic first then The Babadook,” Sam spoke. Tara nodded. She looked forward to them cooking however.

-

It was about 10pm when Tara was going to sleep. She knew she was going to struggle howeer due to her second Ghostface attack happening 1 month ago. She was laid in bed wearing some grey shorts and a white T-shirt. She then started to stretch as she was doing approximately 20 push ups before she was going into the bed and closed her eyes.

After around 20 minutes she finally fell asleep, but was entered into a dream. Well, more like a nightmare. The first thing Tara saw was the alleyway and she felt her blood run cold. She slowly tried to walk backwards but was forced forwards where she was in front of a body bag. She knew who it was for, it was for Anika. That was when Anika slowly pulled down the zipper of the bag. That’s when Anika emerged, her face bashed in due to the dumpster. “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t have come to New York I would be alive,” Anika spoke. That’s when Ghostface rused up to a paralyzed Tara and about to slit her throat. That’s when she woke up, covered in her own sweat. She was looking around before she was rushing to her sister’s room. 

Once in she was immediately cuddling up to her sister, hiding all the tears she had in her eyes although they did soak Sam’s (sweaty) shirt. She was golding her sister. “Nightmare too?” Sam hummed out. Tara was nodding. 

“Yeah…” she whimpered out. Sam just held her. “I had one too…” Sam admitted as she laid down, putting Tara on her side and holding her close. She was also rubbing her back. Tara nodded as she kept ahold of her sister before she looked up and cuddled up to Sam. “Can we… sleep together? Like cuddle and stuff? I know you haven’t slpet and you know I haven’t and this might help,” she offered, to which Sam was nodding. “We can do that,” Sam spoke before she laid down and was looking at Tara, who cuddled up to her side as she was resting her head in her neck. Sam meanwhile just rubbed her back as she put her head on Tara’s head and was going to sleep like that. 

It was morning soon after and both sisters woke up refreshed. It seemed to have worked. That was where Tara slept and if she had no one to cuddle that night she brought Chad over.

[undyingmedium]

"Anika?", the dragonblood called from outside her tent, checking if she is still sleeping or not.

"The chocolate is ready." He was carrying a huge box filled with chocolate bites of milky brown color, cut in various different shapes. Like animal ones, little stars, suns and moons, silly faces, letters, and more.

The answer to his call was a swift woosh of the tent to partly reveal the insides and a very awake Anika, just still in her nightgown. She had grown to like the cold seasons because she could wear lighter clothes even in cold weather, but letting the morning breeze in like that didn't feel like the smartest move even for her. "Ouf." She let it a little further down, letting shadow partly envelop her again, her glowing eyes still visible from inside. "Is it morning already? I didn't even realize..."

"I'll get changed, reorganize my stuff and hop on the cart. It's going to take a bit, I believe; she's hiding deep in a swamp somewhere west from here..."

[ingydarwp]

Hello, I bring a question!!

Does wonderful, lovely Anika have postpartum depression? I've re-read chapter one (for the hundreth time) and I dunno if it just her character or not!! Either way, Anika you are a beautiful tortured soul please sit down with me and have some tea.

hihi!!

as a short answer, it’s possible!! however, indy’s roughly 8 or 9 months older than judith, so at the point in which the first chapter occurs, anika’s mindset might just be general depression — though that could definitely have spiralled from the postpartum version!!

alongside indy, a LOT of stuff has happened to anika prior to her meeting maggie, so she’s pretty miserable bc of all of those things as well. having indy definitely didn’t help, though….

sorry indy :(

[snowmanmelting]

36, 69 and 82 for sunlight!

Sorry for the delay Anon, but thank you for this ask bc I went and reread most of my sunlight drafts uwu ♥️ to remember how much I loved their dynamic ddsnakawsgshs

36-Do they have pet names for one another??

HMMMMM I think not more than their usual friendly nicknames, like Sunset would just call Twilight "Twi" and maybe, maybe "babe" when there's no one else. Or she had a few drinks lmao, or like, said it without even realizing in a simple dumb question (?)

Twilight calls her "Sunny", and Sunset blushes and plays it cool but actually loves it she just likes to keep her aloof persona LMAO. I also have a draft where she says something like "Sunny, love, we already did this". In that semi sarcastic way(?), But it's caring I promise!!!

69-Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn't know?

Hmmmm, overall, nah. They strike me as the type that is naturally open with the other. Like they know (and bonded) over each other's past. And if there is something then it'll eventually come out, maybe in different parts, maybe all at once because it'll be very obvious, ya know?

Idk their relationship always struck me as the naturally communicative one

82-What do they love about each other the most?

I that Sunset loves how kind Twilight is to everyone? Ya know, she's that one girl everyone loves bc she's... She's just nice :^) and helping and doing/fighting for what she believes is the right thing to do for everyone.

Twilight loves Sunset's confidence. In the sense that she's unapologetically herself, ya know. Like Twilight half the time tries to be up to Celestia's standards. Sunset literally defied that.

And she loves Sunset in like, high waisted pants and a tucked in shirt. Add a blazer and oh my God she has to leave the room to contain her gayness.

And ofc they love when they combine their braincells and nerd the hell out together. Ew, intellectuals.

Ay tysm for the ask! Now I want more of these two in my life uwu

100 OTP questions