thegifpage

[santanasaintmendes]

“i wish i was who you drunk texted at midnight. . .” Part 2!

wc!: 3.5k 😱

ollie bearman x fem!reader + childhood friends to ? 👀

warnings: swearing

summary: Continuation of “i wish i was who you drunk texted at midnight”

a/n: wow. i never expected so many people to ask for a part 2! tbh i was going to leave it on a cliffhanger but i guess i just can’t write and leave my fics on cliffhangers smh 😔 also im so sorry this took me so long to get out! I was struggling a bit with schoolwork and going travelling but I hope you’re satisfied with this ending xoxox

type: angst with fluff ending . . . maybe? 👀

part 1

“Y/N?”

Oooo irony was such a little bitch. 

You watched as a wave of shock crossed Ollie’s face as he stared down at you, both of you unable to form even a word, as if they’d all gotten stuck in your throat. A thousand thoughts were running through your mind as you laid at his feet. Frozen in shock, this couldn’t have gone in a worse direction than it already was. Your face was flushed in embarrassment and you just knew your entire face was hot red. You opened your mouth to say something, anything to salvage your dignity but as luck would have it, no words left your mouth. 

“. . . hey there.” you attempted to sound relaxed and sombre but you unfortunately ended up sounding like a squeaking mouse instead.

Your hand shot to your mouth as you slowly sat up. Ollie chuckled, wiping his cheeks from any stray tears with the back of his hand. You crossed your legs as he sat across from you, still fighting to find words that could possibly explain the whole word vomit you’d just thrown up. You met his eyes, fighting the urge to jump up and run out the door. You wanted to still be mad at him, to leave but something stopped you. Whatever it was clearly wanting you to just suffer even more. 

“Hey there,” he cracked a smile, you swallowed and chuckled but it sounded about as empty as you felt right now. 

“Is it true? Everything you said?” he slowly asked, his voice delicate like a thin pane of glass about to crack any moment You swallowed in a weak attempt to keep the word vomit in that was about to spill everywhere once again. 

“Yeah. I didn’t expect you to open the door though, I was actually just about to go home.” you trailed off as you began to get up, but he grabbed your wrist as if it was the only thing here keeping him on Earth. You froze and looked down at him with a heavy heart. You felt like you were going to burst into tears all over again. It was so pathetic it made you sick to your stomach, how could you let yourself get so carried away? 

“Please. . . stay? We can talk afterwards, I promise. I want to apologise properly, just please stay.” he sounded so defeated, so hollow and empty that you almost forgot the reason you were ever mad at him in the first place. 

You looked at the door then slowly back at Ollie, you never thought you could love and hate someone so much at the same time. You wanted to leave, the mix of emotions you felt inside you were overwhelming and getting the best of you. Yet, a small part inside of you told you that you HAD to stay. Not for yourself but for Ollie, maybe not for the guy he was now but for that small freckled kid you once knew. 

“You’ll race right?” you asked him hopefully, you hated the way your voice showed how much you cared for him. It made you feel weak, vulnerable in front of someone you never thought you’d feel that in front.  Ollie nodded, his hand still clutching your wrist as he looked up at you. His mouth was slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something more. So you waited, a second too long perhaps but the words got lost in his mouth and you held back your disappointment. 

Your heart ached as you looked at him, his eyes still red and you could see that he was fighting back tears. It reminded you of when the two of you were in third grade and a bunch of kids were killing ants on the playground.  Ollie had burst out crying. You used to tease him about it all the time but the truth was whenever you saw Ollie crying it felt like a part of your heart was being torn apart. 

And it made you mad, and you promised yourself that you’d never let Ollie cry again. A pretty unrealistic promise but it didn’t matter to you, not to 8 year-old you anyways. And the world be damned if they tried to stop you, because he was your best friend and what wouldn’t one do for their best friend?

You sighed, pulling your eyes away from him, unable to stand the sight of him any longer, knowing that if you stayed you’d break and fall apart. 

“I’ll be with Arthur.” you told him as you pulled away from him, he gently let go of your wrist, his arms falling down beside him. Holding back the urge to hug him you left him alone, unknowing the way that he stared after you as you disappeared out the door. You felt sick to your stomach and your legs like putty underneath you as you walked down the hallway. It seemed to stretch out like a never ending tunnel as you stumbled down it. It all just didn’t make sense. Why did it all have to be so complicated? 

Arthur was standing by the Ferrari motorhome lounge with his brother, Charles Leclerc whom you’d met briefly at a race in Monza. Upon seeing your pale face Arthur quickly excused himself from his older brother and approached you, concern written all over his face. You’d always considered Arthur to be a close friend, since he was good pals with Ollie you’d always see him out and 

about the paddock. He’d always keep you company at races and when you and Ollie began to drift apart Arthur would always text to see how you were doing. You were eternally grateful for that, it almost seemed like you should have been falling for him this entire time. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding your shoulders and looking at you, his eyes searching your face for an answer. You nodded, unable to meet his eyes, instead glancing back to where the Ollie’s driver room was. The hallway almost calling out to you, wanting you to stumble back down it. 

“Did you get Ollie out?” Arthur asked as the two of you sat down on the lounge in the Ferrari motorhome. You sank into the seat, wishing you could just disappear at that moment. 

“Yeah.” you replied flatly, he looked over at you, he knew something had happened. 

“We’re going to talk later. I just, just wish. . . I wish he knew how much he means to me. I want to be someone’s first choice for once, I want to be his first choice for once.” you trailed off slowly. No truer words could’ve been spoken at that moment. You felt so stupid saying that out loud but it had never sounded so right, it felt right inside of you. To Ollie you’d always been a second choice and deep down you knew you’d always be. It all just felt too unfair, you wish you could’ve given up easier, to be able to forget everything that had happened and move on. 

It would’ve made life a whole lot easier if you could. But the universe be damned, it wouldn’t let you. 

“I’m not going to say I get, because I don’t really but, I get it.” Arthur sent a playful smile your way in hopes of cheering you up. You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt nonetheless lighter. 

“Thanks for staying and getting Ollie out, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to get him out. But thanks to you we did.” Arthur smiled, you grinned back, knowing that you’d made the right decision to stay. 

You couldn’t help but feel overjoyed for Ollie when he finished P7 in his first F1 race. Your chest swelled with pride as you watched him hop out of his car and run over to give his Father a giant hug, a bear hug, one could say (i’m such a comedian haha). You watched as the relief and happiness washed over him. 

“I have to go find Charles. Are you going to be okay by yourself?” Arthur asked as he stood up, looking over at you. You nodded, sending him a reassuring smile.  “Don’t worry I’ll be fine. I’ll come find you afterwards.” 

He sent you a nod, knowing you needed to speak to Ollie anyways before disappearing into the crowd to go find his brother. 

You patiently waited throughout the whole podium celebration, waiting for a moment to catch Ollie alone to talk. You never realised just how amazing and impressive it was attending a Formula 1 Race, sure you’d attended many of Ollie’s races but never an F1 race. You watched as Ollie spoke to an interviewer, his cheeks flushed a bright red and sweat rolling down the side of his face. 

You couldn’t help but smile, proudly? Happily? Whatever it was, you knew that deep down you’d never stop loving this boy. You could hate him for everything, for leaving you, for forgetting about you, but you’d never stop loving him and some part of you was okay with that. 

A couple of hours later you spotted Ollie alone, finally getting a chance and the courage to go and speak to him. He was sitting in an armchair having just got off the phone with someone, a part of you wondered if that was Estelle. But you pushed it down as you slowly began to approach him. Unsure what you were going to say, your mind began to race. You never realised how much you now had to think before you spoke to Ollie, when you were kids the conversation flowed so easily you almost didn’t have to think. 

Now, you found yourself wondering what on Earth you were going to say to him at all. 

Ollie noticed you walking toward him and a smile broke onto his face, your heart and stomach immediately erupting in butterflies. Maybe it was all going to be okay, maybe everything you had overthought (overthunk?) was all just you getting the better of yourself. 

“Ollie. . .” you began to say when you were only a few feet in front of him, but something in his gaze shifted and his eyes were drawn to something behind you. And if you thought everything earlier was bad luck and timing then it was nothing compared to this. 

“Ollie!” a light hearted voice rang, you froze. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you turned around, your eyes laid on Estelle who was walking toward Ollie with that blinding perfect smile of hers. You desperately looked back to Ollie, your mind racing, hoping, wishing that somehow he would turn her away. 

What had she ever done for him? 

What had she done to make him love her?

And then suddenly it was either you or her. It always had been for Ollie, you were his best friend but Estelle was his girlfriend. You wished Ollie knew what you were thinking at that moment, that if he left you for her, you’d leave. 

You’d leave and never run after him again.

And maybe that was a good thing. 

But as fate would have it, it wasn’t meant to be. Ollie would always run to her, choose her side, no matter what she did. Ollie pushed past to you, maybe you were crazy, delusional even, but you swore you saw a look of regret on his face. But of course, that couldn’t be true. 

You should’ve known better. 

What a liar. What a cheat. What a-

A soft knock interrupted your thoughts, you glanced up at the door. It slowly swung open, Bianca’s face peeking through the crack. She broke into a comforting smile as she approached and sat down at the end of your bed. 

It had been a week and yet somehow it was the only thing you thought about. He chose her. 

What did you really expect? 

In the end it only made you feel more stupid and pathetic than ever. 

“You know, if it makes you get out of bed, your Mother’s baked cookies.” Bianca shrugged in an effort to make you smile but it failed miserably. You just wanted to wallow in self pity and eat ice cream all day. But your Mother and Bianca seemed to be oddly against that.

“Bianca,” you grumbled into your pillow, she sighed, already knowing what you were going to say. 

“Why does he even like her? I don’t see it. He’s been obsessed with her ever since high school, what has she got that I don’t have?” you complained, knowing it wasn’t going to make you feel any better. But maybe ranting about it all day would at least boost your ego.

It in fact, did not. Not even in the slightest. Complaining about it all day just made it occupy your mind even more. 

“Comparing yourself to Estelle isn’t going to change anything, and hey you never know maybe she’s got a good personality.” she shrugged. You raised your eyebrows at her as she tried to suppress her giggles. 

“I don’t think you even believe that.” you laughed dryly. She nodded, “Trust me, I don’t.” 

The two of you burst out in laughter and for a moment everything was okay. And you believed it. 

“C’mon, let’s go eat some cookies.” Bianca offered after the two of you had stopped laughing. You nodded, feeling better than before, the thought of Ollie still at the back of your mind but at least it didn’t hurt as much anymore. 

The two of you made your way downstairs to the kitchen where your Mother was. 

“Hey girls,” she smiled as the two of you took a seat at the bench. 

“Oh, can you go quickly and buy some milk for the hot chocolates? Take an umbrella with you.” your Mother asked, you let out an internal groan. You glanced out the window at the awful weather outside that almost mirrored what you felt inside. 

“Can we both go?” you asked, leaning on Bianca, but your Mother answered suspiciously fast. “No, I need her to help me with the dishes.”

“Sure.” you answered sceptically, jumping off the stool and going to grab a jacket. 

You ran through the rain, dodging puddles and potholes as you made your way down the street. The rain began to slow down as you entered the shop, you quickly popped into the dairy aisle and grabbed a carton off the shelf. 

Paying for it, eager to get back home, you stuffed the change and receipt in your pocket and zoomed (zoomed . . .?) out the door. 

Ring, ring.

Who is it?

It’s irony, she’s being a bitch again.

You halted in your steps as your eyes locked with Ollie’s. 

You knew it. You were right. What a liar. Your Mother had bought Milk yesterday. Well wasn’t that just lovely? Now, you couldn’t trust your best friend or your Mother. The person who had birthed you, betrayal at its finest right there. 

You weren’t even thinking straight when you spoke, you were so tired of this, of him. “Why are you here?” you demanded coldly, expecting a deep and emotional answer. 

“To buy milk. . .  for hot chocolate.” Ollie answered as he stared at the milk in your hands. You blinked. Ollie blinked back. 

“Did your Mum send you?” you asked, honestly impressed that both your Mother’s could curate such a witty plan. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Ollie must’ve spoken to his Mother about everything that had happened. He nodded.

“Huh. Well that’s great. I’ll see you around.” you turned to walk away from him and head back home. Your clothes already soaked wet from the rain, especially your socks, and that wasn’t a nice feeling at all. 

“Wait, Y/N,  please.” Ollie called after you, making you stop. You hated that it was so easy, that he could call your name and you’d drop everything for him. 

“Why, Oliver? Do you want to tell me that you want to talk to me and then just blow me off for Estelle? Because I won’t let you, not anymore. I’m so sick and tired of this, hoping, waiting for you to even give me a minute of your time. To pay me even the littlest of attention at all. Do you think it’s easy to live like this? 

To want someone you can never have? I don’t even understand why I still want you, I should have never gone to Saudi Arabia, it was a mistake. I should’ve moved on, I should have never caught feelings thinking that maybe one day we’d end up together. But no, it’s got to be so much more complicated than that, because you give me false hope and then I end up being the fool. The pathetic girl who still loves you.” 

You swallowed hard, the breath in your lungs gone. Ollie stared at you, taken aback by your outburst. Good. At least now he knew. You’d said what you’d kept inside for so long and it felt good. 

“I never meant to blow you off like that, Y/N.” Ollie began, it was your turn to be taken aback. The two of you were still standing in the rain, it almost felt like a dang movie scene. 

“I was just so confused after the driver's room. And it isn’t an excuse, I’ll never stop being sorry for the way that I treated you after I left. After I left you.  I wanted to call and text you but I just thought it would make it easier to stop loving you if I didn’t say anything. That if I tried hard enough, my feelings for you would go away. I was too selfish and tried to replace you with Estelle which wasn’t  fair to either of you. I wanted you to move on, to continue living life, find someone else who was better and could be here in Chelmsford for you.  I’m sorry, I really hope you can forgive me, I never meant for it to end up like this.”

There was a long string of silence. Just the two of you standing in the rain, staring at one another like no one else in the world mattered. And maybe this is what you both needed, for closure. 

But you just couldn’t help yourself.

“You loved me. . .?” you whispered, you doubted he heard you at all. It was almost like you were asking yourself that question. 

“Are you kidding, how could I not? The girl who was the first person to ever let me ramble on about Where’s Wally? Y/N, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Ollie confessed, you felt like you’d died of a heart attack and gone to heaven. It all felt like one of those fever dreams.

He had to be lying, it all felt too good to be true. 

“Ollie. . .” you trailed off, the words leaving your mind the moment you opened your mouth. His eyes hadn’t left yours, as if he was urging you to continue, to say something, anything. 

But you couldn’t. 

What if you said something and ruined everything? It had happened too many times in the past week, especially around Ollie. 

“I don’t want to say it. . . “ you whispered to him over the soft patter of the rain. You wiped your tears away, hoping that he hadn’t noticed the way your voice wobbled when you spoke. Your throat hurt from holding back tears. 

“Then let me say it for you.” Ollie said taking a courageous step toward you. Your breath got caught in your throat as you looked up at him. He gently took your hands in his, heart skipping a beat you were enthralled by the giant brown eyes you fell in love with all those years ago. 

“I love you.” 

He said every word with certainty you knew he couldn’t be lying.

You weren’t the fool anymore. The lovesick girl who’d fallen for her best friend. You were the girl he loved too. And maybe there were still a million things left to figure out, to understand, but in that moment time stood still and everything you’d ever hoped for, wished for, came true. 

You were pretty sure you weren’t even breathing anymore. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears and it didn’t help that it began to go 100km/hour when Ollie began to lean in slowly. 

And it was perfect. Everything you’d ever imagined and better. Maybe it would be difficult but anything that came your way, you’d handle it together. 

You pulled away, your lips tingling like you’d downed a bunch of pop rocks. 

“I can’t believe it took me so long to do that.” Ollie whispered, his lips still grazing yours. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you gente cupped his cheek, pressing a kiss to his lips again. 

“Want to come over for hot chocolate and cookies, Bearman?” you asked, looking up at him, your cheeks flushed. He grinned back. 

“You know me so well.” 

“You’re crazy.” you laughed. 

“Only for you,” he replied.

And it was true. 

Fin.

a/n: wow! tysm for reading “i wish i was who you drunk texted at midnight”!! I hope you enjoyed it! This concludes the two part ollie fic of mine, tysm for the support love u all! xoxo santanasaintmendes 💗

taglist!!!: @eloriis, @papayadays @seasonswinter @myangelbaby555

[vulturetime]

on the bright side, I will get time to do shit I like very very soon. On the other, I have to endure finals before then.

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire

Summary: You just can’t seem to find yourself in this stupid school for freaks, but just when you’re sure no one cares anymore, a man with adamantium claws disturbs your groaning with a promise. Except he forgot to mention everything good comes with a price.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Anxiety, hints to violence, loneliness, I guess angst, manipulation (The reader is helpless and will look for anything to make her happy), some hints towards suggestive material near the end, bad language word use, pet names.

Word Count: 3523 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Xavier's Mansion.

Also known as the school for “Gifted Youngsters,” or simply for what society prefers to call, “Freaks.”

You’d been there for a few months. You have a very unique power, something even Xavier himself doesn’t understand how to control.

You get these looks all the time when you're walking in the halls of the mansion. You notice it when people cover their mouths to whisper about you and you can’t not notice it when you seem to create a bubble around you as some of the kids try to keep a distance.

Yea, it hurts. You couldn’t deny that either. Sometimes you’d even have to find a restroom really fast to cry to yourself in one of the stalls, but even that hurts when some of the students quickly flood out of the restroom after you enter.

Nobody knew how much it hurt you, nobody even knew what powers you really had. If they did, you would’ve already been sent to the ice box, but luckily, you didn’t know how to use your more dangerous powers. You figured Xavier probably knew about them, considering he can read your mind and he knows just exactly how powerful you really were, but he didn’t know if you knew about them. And what you don’t know, can’t hurt you.

The hardest part was going to class. While everyone else had a table of four people, you sat alone. You did every project alone, with high soaring grades by the way, and you never got to speak to anyone during discussion or free time before the bell rang.

Sometimes you wish you were just… normal.

Of course, you weren’t the only person that was avoided. There were a few other students and even some of the adults that were always avoided. The only true friend you seemed to have was Hank McCoy. Everyone used to fear him, thinking that he couldn’t control the “Beast,” so he knows how you feel. But sometimes it only felt like he tolerated you because you were smart, and you were the only student that could aid him in building anything related to tech, and nanotech, and coding, and all that good stuff.

“Have you figured out why it isn’t working?” Was the first thing he asked you as you walked into his lab. Not a good morning, no how’s class, and not even hello. “I was thinking it had something to do with our maths, that maybe we calculated something wrong but I’ve looked over it again and again and couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it.” He tells you, picking up his notebook which you could see was now full of mathematical equations and random scribbles which seemed to radiate with frustration.

“I don’t think we got the maths wrong, I’ve checked it about a thousand times.” You say quietly, then gently put your bag full of books down under one of his desks so it wasn’t in the way. “Pretty sure it just needs to be smaller. Nothing really about maths though. Other than that, the fibres need to be smaller.”

“So it is the maths?”

“Eh, kind of.” You groan a little and stretch before grabbing a small, delicate pair of tweezers. “This is still too big.” You tell him, placing a sample of part of your tech down under a microscope, strong enough you’re surprised it couldn’t see atoms. “See, this is about as thick as a piece of hair, which is about the size of…” You sigh, looking back at your maths. “It’s about 50,000 nanoparticles, so not a lot, but we need it to be a little smaller.” You tell him, then look away from the small bit of tech to look up at him, his eyes squinted in your direction as is he was trying to understand what you were saying. “Okay I’ll dumb it down. It’s about as thick as a piece of hair right now, we need to numb it down to about… only one hundred nanoparticles, so it should be about as thick as graphene.”

“What’re you two nerds going on about now?” Another voice cuts into your explanation. It was none other than the gruffy voice of Wolverine.

“Oh hey, Logan.” Hank abandons the workstation to go over Logan who was making himself some coffee. “Just figuring out something about nano…”

“Nanoparticles.” You finish his sentence.

“Yea, that.” He says plainly, not bothering to look at you as you turn away from their conversation and look through the microscope.

“Now how do I make you that small…” You whisper to yourself, gently lifting the particle string with your delicate tweezers and examining it through the microscope. “Hmm…” You hum to yourself.

“Y/N!” Hank calls for you, and you turn around. “I’m going out to pick up some lunch for the both of us. What would you like? I’m getting Mexican.” You tell him what you would like, and he takes a moment to clean his work area and stuff his wallet in his pocket before he finally leaves. Leaving you to stand by your desk, doing all the work that has to do with nanotech, but also leaving the Wolverine with you.

“So what exactly are you two working on?” You hear his voice behind you, then you see him next to you.

“Teleportation. Not as complicated as you think, it’s just the fear that gets to everyone really.” You look away from your work, and your eyes land on him. His arms crossed as he leaned on a nearby table, showing enough respect to not sit on your working table.

“Seems complicated. What could possibly be scary about it though? It's just teleportation.”

“Well. If you think deeper into it. Your body and every single atom and particle of your body has to be completely broken down into an uncountable amount of smaller pieces and then your body has to rebuild itself in the secondary location, you just have to hope that it rebuilds you correctly. Or the next thing you know half your right arm is also half of your left leg with toes for fingers.” You say without taking a breath, taking a deep breath after letting it all out. Staring back up at him, his eyes were now squinted in confusion.

“I don’t think anyone is scared of that except you. I’ve never even thought about that.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his scalding hot black coffee.

“Yea well… I’ve had a lot of time to think about a lot of things.” You tell him through gritted teeth, mumbling before grabbing your notebook.

“You know…” He pauses, placing his hot coffee mug on another table away from your work before walking back up next to you, placing his palms on your table where there wasn’t electronic junk lying around. “You aren’t the only one.”

“The only one?” You question, turning and grabbing another tool before looking under your microscope, turning the string around to try and figure out how to break it into a smaller piece, without actually breaking it.

“The only one that’s feared.”

You stop what you’re doing, still looking into the microscope but not actually paying attention to what was right in front of your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way some of the other kids look at you, bub. Like there’s something wrong with you. I know how it feels to not fit in.” He crosses his arms as he leans against your table, attempting to get your full attention. He clears his throat before speaking again. “I’ve seen you in the halls. Your name is Y/N, right?” You nod, his eyes and yours locked onto each other. “Logan.” He says, reaching his hand out to shake yours. Your hand basically gets engulfed by his as your soft hand meets his, which were rough and still yet soft, that surprised you, considering… “Hank talks about you a lot also. Not like he loves you or anything, he just tells me you’re smart. Like really smart.” He shrugs.

“Hm…” You hum a little. This is the first conversation you’ve had with someone in this school where they’ve actually treated you like a real human.

“Considering the way you explain this stuff, I’d say he’s probably right about you being smart.” He nodded towards the nanoparticles still sitting under your microscope, it was hard to see from even a foot away considering it was the width of a single piece of hair. “So what exactly is a nanoparticle? Or nano…”

“Nanoparticle" is correct. It just like a piece of tech or anything made of tech like certain fibers that can be visible to the naked eye but they’re very small. Just this one piece is the width of 50,000 nanoparticles.” You carefully pick up the string, and gently put it in it’s container.

“And what was that other thing you mentioned earlier?”

“Graphene?”

“Yea.”

“It’s made of about 50 to 100 nanoparticles, and it can be seen with the naked eye through a refraction of light in a mirror or clear substance that has a bend in it.”

“I’m not completely sure what any of that means. But I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“Yea, I’m kind of a nerd.” You chuckle awkwardly, then reach down to pull your bag over your shoulder, your social battery is pretty much near zero for the day, or maybe week. This was you first time ever speaking to Wolverine and you just nerd out on him? What were you thinking?

“Alright, I got food. Where are you heading?” Hank finally comes back, a bag full of boxes with the three of your foods in them in his right hand as he enters the lab, letting the metal door close behind him.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, I was gonna go back to my room.”

“Well you know the rules. No food in the rooms.”

“Yea, yea. I know.” You sigh, setting your bag back down as he hands you your box of food and you hop onto one of the clean counters to sit down as you eat your food.

“Have you seen Xavier today?” He asks Logan, handing him his food also.

“No, he’s out on some special mission with Mystique right now, won’t be back for about another week.”

“And what does he have you doing? You never leave your room so I’m assuming he's’ got you doing something?” Hank stands next to Logan as they both talk back and forth.

“He has me teaching his third class and fifth class. I guess that one is the anger management class and the other is meditation.”

“Ah, so he’s got you teaching the two classes you used to fail in.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

After working in the lab, a lot shorter than usual, you actually head back to your room. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been ecstatic to meet Wolverine for years, and when you finally get to have a conversation with him, you just geek out on him about nanotech?

As you hang your bag on the wall and remove your jacket only to throw it on the back of your desk chair, you can’t help but want to just smash your head on a wall until you’ve forgotten about everything that’s happened today.

You mope as you walk into the centre of your small room, stopping and staring at the mess on your desk, a bunch of full notebooks covered in little pen markings of maths and science that no one else in the school would understand.

You walk to the desk, take one of the notebooks in your hand that had some free space left, and drop down on your bed. Reaching behind your head, you pull your sweater over your head and discard it on the floor before leaning against your headboard and clicking the back of your pencil until the led is at your desired length.

As soon as the tip of the led touches the paper, your mind wanders. That was so embarrassing… You realise, scribbling random maths into your notebook. I can’t believe I just made a professor hate me too… Not only had you dissociated, but you also completely nerded out. You talked about nanoparticles as if it was the only thing you cared about. You care about more though. You care about the family that was so scared of you they sent you off to this stupid school, calling you a freak and breaking all ties with you. No, you don’t care about them. But you care about your friends so much! You don’t have any friends. Hank is very special to you, he holds a space in your heart. A very, very small space. Yea he doesn’t care about you, you’ve just been able to make about a thousand breaks in his experiments. Then of course he would take all of the credit when he would show it to Professor X.

Why do you even try? I guess working with Hank is the equivalent of the other students going out to the mall with their friends. The only difference is he wasn’t your friend.

You take it back, you had one friend. If you could even call someone you only text cause you’re too scared for actual confrontation, a friend. Nightcrawler- or Kurt. The one guy who’s ever made an actual effort to try and be your friend, he’s just always out on missions. Or so that’s what his actual friends tell you. Maybe you should send him a text and actually verify whether he hates you or not… You get up from your bed and unzip your bag, sticking your hand into the pocket where you always shove your phone, but it’s not there. What the fuck? You take your bag off it’s hook and search the rest of the pockets, and still no phone. You go to your bed, searching under the covers and getting on your knees to check under the bed, still no phone. You check your desk, your discarded sweater, and you sweep the floor with your eyes looking for it, thinking it might’ve just fallen out of your pocket. You hate seeming desperate for a simple device that rots your brain to default, but God that phone is your escape.

“Hey, is everything alright-?” A voice cuts into your messy search as you turn around and your door is cracked just enough for him to stick his head in.

“Sorry, Mr. Howlett, I just can’t find my phone.” You chuckle awkwardly, standing in the centre of your room as he peeks around your room at the mess you’ve created.

“Again, you can call me Logan. I don’t mind it, I prefer it actually. Do you mind if I step in?”

“Yea, it’s fine. Sorry for the mess, I haven’t really had time to clean it.” You nervously link your fingers together in front of you and let your thumb pick at your skin as he comes in, closing the door gently behind him.

“It’s not a mess, just a sweater on the floor and notebooks on the bed.” Sweater on the floor. Of course. Yea, you were standing in the centre of your room, in your shorts and a black fucking clasp on bra. Now you suddenly feel naked standing in front of him, so you cross your arms, hoping to hide at least some of the embarrassment.

“Well uh, what’s up?” You try sounding cool but immediately cringe.

“You left this in the lab.” He tells you, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out your phone, handing it to you backside up, so you could see the glittery phone case, adorned with pink sparkles. “Was gonna give it to you in class but you kids go crazy over your phones.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go crazy…” You tell him, humour in your voice as you awkwardly look around your room, the sheets halfway off the bed and your pillows tossed in the middle, the result in the crazy search for your phone. “Would just be a little annoyed…”

“So is everything okay?”

“Yea, why do you ask?”

“I was knocking on your door and sayin’ your name. but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh,” You laugh dryly. “Sorry, sometimes I get lost in my head and kinda just block out all sounds and sometimes I’ll block out what’s in front of me."

“Oh I see.” What do I say to respond to that? “What were you working on?” Why is he still here?

“Honestly, I don’t know, I was just scribbling.”

“Had enough maths for the day?” He jokes.

“Had enough maths for the month.” You mumble, but then he laughs. A short laugh. But a laugh nonetheless. Isn’t he annoyed by you? Why is he still- “What would you be doin’ if Hank didn’t have you doing all this brain stuff?” Oh.

“Well uh, nothing probably.”

“Not one for hanging out with your friends?”

“Friends? Hah!” You laugh with sarcasm, then walk over to your discarded sweater, bending over to pick it up, deciding to distract yourself with cleaning. “It's not easy for a freak to make friends.” You mumble to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear, of course, he did.

“You’re not a freak.” He crosses his arms as you look over your shoulder at him.

“Yea sure. Everyone in the school would so easily disagree with you on that.” You say back, folding the sweater before tossing it into your dirty laundry basket. “Professor X won’t even let me leave the school because he doesn’t trust me. I’m sure you’re no different.” Shit that was supposed to be said in your head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’d smack yourself right now if it wouldn’t make you look stupid, if he wasn’t in your room still.

“So you think everyone’s the same?” He asks, more of a statement.

“No I- I don’t mean it like that. I just-” He clears his throat.

“Come here.” He demands, looking into your fucking soul. So of course, with a gaze as threatening as his. You stand right in front of him after you walk up to him like Bambi in a traffic headlight. Wobbly, and frozen. “Good, now look at me.” Oh, you forgot that part.

You looked away from his shirt, and tilted your head back to look up into his eyes and for a man who’s so adept at killing his eyes were so soft, and broken…

“If you didn’t randomly blank out, you would’ve also heard Xavier when he told you the only time you could leave, is if it’s with someone else in case there’s an emergency.”

“Emergency from what? Me losing my temper?”

“Exactly that.” Is what shuts you up. “When I said I know how you’re feeling, I meant it.” His voice softens, and you feel your throat knot as you hold back embarrassing tears. “It wasn’t easy for me to make friends either, but honestly I prefer to be in a small crowd. Normally I’m not the one to comfort a student, but you just don’t seem to want to talk to anyone. Why’s that?”

“I’ve tried talking to people. They just give me a look and then walk away.”

“Does that actually happen? Or is that just what it feels like?”

Shit. You hate to admit it, but he makes a point.

What the fuck. Was your next thought as his hand moved up and he gently placed his hand on your cheek.

“I know you hate everyone at this school from the fucking bottom of your heart, but I’m gonna have you try to refrain from hating me. We can strike a deal by letting me take you out of the mansion. I’m sure you’d love to get out, can’t remember the last time you left.”

“Never have.” You whisper, shrugging your shoulders. Your voice is only quiet so your tears aren’t cascading down your face.

“Well if you can just promise to behave, and tell me when you’re getting stressed, then I’ll supervise you like Xavier wants.” He tells you, promising some sort of freedom. “I’m not saying I’m scared of you. If anyone is scared of what you can do, it’s you. Am I right?” You nod. “Use your words, bub.”

“Yea…” Your voice cracks as you barely mutter an entire word.

“Hey, hey…” He says softly, then he suddenly pulls you into a hug. “I’ve got you.” He gently rubs your back, which by the way is still bare since you never got to throw on another shirt. “Just cancel your plans with Hank, I can help you more than he ever will…”

He promises. His fingers gently run over the metal clasps on the back of your bra as you loosely wrap your arms around him, embracing his hug and you nod, not able to formulate any more words as you cry quietly against his chest, your tears wetting his shirt as you both stand there in silence. A quiet smirk on his face as he holds onto you…

[literaila]

do you ever think reader would storm out of the house after a fight between her & satoru? (referring to ur keeping secrets fic.) i feel like part of her wouldn’t bc she’s also thinking about the kids and she just can’t leave them, but she also seems a lot more grounded than satoru in general. i think the other part of her would also need a minute to step out for a bit bc i just know satoru drives her to insanity. i don’t knoww, satoru’s reaction to her storming out just infects my brain, but i know she couldn’t do that to megumi and tsumiki </3 i’m such a sucker for your hurt/comfort fics

“where are you going?”

“not sure,” satoru says, barely mumbling. “i didn’t ask.”

“you didn’t ask?”

he looks at you, just a glimmer of teasing in his eyes. but the rest of him is apprehensive—he knows what you’re thinking.

he always does.

but he looks back down, shoving shirts into a suitcase in the worst possible way.

“does it matter?” he asks, dryly. “it’s just another work trip.”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

“however long it takes to—“

“can i come with you?”

satoru pauses, and his eyes trail to you.

to you, where you’re standing in the doorway. you only know he’s leaving because of the suitcase, you only know that you can’t deal with him being gone again because of that feeling.

it’s reminiscent of packing your own bag at fifteen. of never returning home.

“you want to come?” satoru’s voice is too smooth, too unserious. “you hate planes. and what about work? you want to take your students too?”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

satoru sighs. he finally relents, walking over to you. his smile is a little irritated, tired. “it won’t take long,” he says, rubbing your shoulders. “you’ll get the bed all to yourself.”

“this is the fourth trip in the last three months.”

he tilts his head. “it’s the same amount as always.”

“it’s—“ you stop.

it’s different.

and your heart is racing, because you’re used to this feeling.

really, satoru has taken regular work trips for as long as you’ve known him. his passport is well used, his suitcase replaced almost once a year.

but it’s different.

because it used to be you, satoru, and the kids. it used to be you and the kids waiting at the door, talking about him behind his back, going to the airport to pick him up.

and even if you missed him, you knew that tsumiki missed him just as much. you knew that megumi was waiting for him to come back just the same—getting restless without someone there to mess with constantly.

it used to be you and the kids, when satoru was gone.

but now…

megumi is at school all week—and even when he comes home, it’s only to keep you happy. so that he can take a break from jujutsu, and sleeping in a dorm right next to yuji’s.

and tsumiki—

you stop thinking about that almost immediately.

it’s just not worth it.

when satoru leaves, you’re all alone.

“i wish you could come. you know how the higher ups are about—“

“why don’t you tell them no?”

satoru is wearing his blindfold, so you can’t see his eyes. but you see it as he leans back, looking at you curiously. “what?”

“tell them no. they’re scared of you, aren’t they? they’re not going to make you—“

“what other special grade sorcerer are they going to send?” he asks, shaking his head. “i hate them too, but if they need me—“

“i need you.”

satoru stops. you want to see his eyes—you want him to stay here.

you don’t want to walk around the house and chat with ghosts. you don’t want to be the only one left behind—the only one who has nothing else.

what about you? what’s supposed to happen to you when satoru leaves you behind?

he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.

“what?”

“i don’t understand why you have to go,” you say, and you’re angry now. “i’m tired of your work trips, and i hate that you don’t even care, and i hate being in the house all alone—“

“what? what do you mean i don’t care?”

you pull away from him. just to do it first. “you don’t even try to get someone else to do it, you just leave—“

“why are you blaming me? i didn’t ask for this.”

“because you’re always gone! and i’m always alone, and you haven’t even asked me how i feel about it—“

“it’s not like i enjoy doing it,” he says, frowning. “i don’t like leaving you or the kids, it’s just work—“

“i think you do enjoy it,” you spit. and you know that you shouldn’t but, “you like being the only one that they can call. being the strongest. that’s why you haven’t told them no, that’s why—“

“what?”

“is it fun to leave the house? to escape for a week or two while i’m here to take care of everything?”

satoru scoffs. “are you kidding?”

“what? you can admit it. go on and leave. you’ve done it before, satoru.”

his jaw clenches. “if you don’t like being here,” he says, so soft—but you can feel it. the impending blow. “then go somewhere else.”

immediately, your body flinches back. you fall inwards, wanting nothing more than to fall back against him.

but it’s too late.

“i can’t help that im the strongest, i don’t enjoy leaving you—but ill do it because it’s my job. if you hate being alone, then find something else. go see megumi, or nanami, or—“

you take a step back, almost stumbling into the wall.

“you’re putting words in my mouth and i—“

but you don’t hear the rest of that sentence.

and maybe this is your fault. you shouldn’t have picked a fight, you shouldn’t have even said anything.

satoru isn’t to blame for your loneliness. he isn’t to blame for anything.

you turn around. and you walk out the door with shaking hands.

go somewhere else, he said.

and you will.

[lavvylove]

Teaspoon (K. Tsukishima)

RAHHHH HI! I'm so thankful for all the love I got on my Spencer Reid x reader post, it means a lot to me. I lowkey lost all my motivation for writing tbh due to moving and getting ready for college but I'm back! Kei is the loml so I decided to pay him homage. Enjoy!

Content: Kei Tsukishima x F!Reader, Kei Tsukishima is bad at feelings, no use of Y/N cause we are a sophisticated people, the reader is really bad at math (I'm projecting), Fluff, maybe angst but mostly cause Tsukki is kinda emotionally stunted

Holy fuck.

That’s about the only thing Kei can think when he hears his friend talk. He’s never been one to care much for girls. They’re needy and annoying and he hates having to give himself to someone who will just hurt him. Of course, in Kei’s mind being hurt is a certainty. Akiteru showed him that when the man lied to protect his stupid pride, Kei would never forget it. Pride, love, and passion are for idiots who just want to get hurt and Kei wants no part in it. But her? His heart is in his throat the minute he holds her attention.

“Are you fucking serious?” Kei moves his eyes over to the shorter girl, watching how her brow twitches and her lips frown. Suddenly, he can’t even focus on what she’s saying as he feels his blood pressure rise. Why does it keep doing that? She’s not annoying him, he’s not upset, so why does it feel like he might explode whenever she’s around him?

A sigh slipped from his lips. “What?” It was sharper than he meant it, but she always brushed his tone off in a way no one else could. Kei likes that, he likes that she isn’t sensitive to the point where he can just say things and she’ll know he didn’t mean any harm.

Her eyes shift to his and Kei feels his blood pressure spike again. “I’m failing.” She frowned, turning her computer to show him her grade. Kei blinks at it before sitting back. He surprises himself by the way his chest suddenly aches to offer help. It’s like he suddenly can’t fathom the idea of her having a hard time. It’s so painfully stupid that Kei wishes he could shut his feelings off like the vampires in that stupid show she watches.

A sigh left his lips as he looked at her. “What subject?” The way her face lights up makes him want to curl up into a ball at her feet and say anything to incite that response again and again. Kei hates it, it makes him feel stupid and weak but damn he loves it too. The head rush as he watches her whole face shift makes it feel like he might explode.

“Math.” She grunted dejectedly, her head falling onto Kei’s shoulder. Suddenly, Kei can feel every nerve ending in his arm.

“Of course,” he teased, “you’re shit at math.” The way she scowled at him made Kei want to lean in and kiss the expression off her pretty face… no it doesn’t. That would be a ridiculous and stupid idea. Kei sighed softly to interrupt the internal war. “I’ll help you.”

He watched, hating himself for the way her face lit up at the suggestion. “You would?” She looks so hopeful Kei can’t tell if he wants to throw up or pull her close. Which is also stupid, Kei doesn’t hug people. Even Tadashi doesn’t incite this want for physical proximity. Maybe if he didn’t have the emotional range of a teaspoon, he would be able to place this feeling. Maybe he could even ask her out, but instead, he helps her with her math because he’s trying. Kei is trying so hard.

[yandereforme]

It’s time for my new series! I was a bit unsure on format for a while, but I finally decided on one. 

Yan!Batboys

Yan!Damian x Academic Rival Reader

(Yes these all are going to have some tropes leave me alone)

Damian first meets you when he starts school in Gossum. Quickly he develops a simultaneous dislike and appreciation of you. He appreciates your intellect on principle (at least you weren’t as much of a buffoon as everyone else here) but he disliked how often you both went toe to toe… And how sometimes he didn’t win.

You had always been one of the smartest people in the school. You were pretty well known for it. You were also well known for not talking to many people, and being a loner.

You had become too smart to fast. You knew that was your inevitable social downfall. You would always been too smart and your peers couldn’t understand. It was fine, you didn’t need friends. (Secretly in the deepest, darkest parts of your mind, you would sometimes wish you weren’t so smart just to have a few friends. However, you knew expectations were for you to be smart. The expectation would be there whether you wanted it to be or not. And you couldn’t handle the disappointment and stares if you didn’t get the top grade)

Damian was the first person who ever challenged you. you felt a spark when he did that. He irritated you a lot often with his hostile attitude, and the fact you weren’t taking the top spot anymore was hard… Especially at home. Still, you could admit, at least yourself, that he added life to your day that wasn’t there when he wasn’t there. He was the first person your age who had ever challenged and won against you.

You both were just that, academic rivals, until a group project where you two are teamed up. That was all it took for you to start being close friends. When you and him worked as a team together to present, you felt better than you would ever felt. After you finished, demon turned to you, and saw you smile in a way he had never seen before. At least, never directed him. That triumphant smile brought heat to his cheeks, but he pushed it down. He convinced himself that the heat and adrenaline and warmth were all due to the fact that you and Damian just blasted everyone else out of the water.

After the project, you became friends. Your competitions turned much more friendly, and you even study together. For the first time in your life, you felt you found an equal. Found someone who was like you. So you didn’t mind (as much) when you didn’t get the top spot anymore. You would try, but you never fully minded when Damian beat you. Not anymore.

How he became Yandere for you

Your parents, and you had an odd relationship. Your mother and father didn’t really care what you did as long as you didn’t shame the family and you kept up your grades. But, now that you weren’t always getting the top spot anymore, you got their attention, and that attention was definitely not positive.

You attempted to distance yourself from Damien around two weeks before Christmas break. The reason? Your family had yelled at you about how you were shaming them by getting second, how disappointed they were at your ‘failure’ and if you didn’t get the next top spot on the exam coming up, you wouldn’t be allowed to go back to Gotham Academy. You had done homeschooling, but you didn’t like it. Homeschooling was with a series of tutors, who often treated you with distaste, and meant that your ex babysitter/tutor, George Lawrence, would come back. You hated that man. He always treated you as if you were stupid and Often made you feel as if you had done something wrong by simply eating or sneezing in his presence.

(a small part of you know that you were also distressed about the fact you would lose Damien. This is the first time in your life you’ve met someone who didn’t shrink away from your intelligence or mock it, but enjoyed and raveled in it and challenged you. You didn’t wanna lose that.)

Damien was struggling as well. Before he would start distancing yourself from him, he had considered you a worthy ally, and almost a friend. You were the only person in the school who didn’t mock him or act like an idiot around him. He enjoyed his time with you, and did not want to lose it.

(a part of him that was growing larger by the day, was wondering why he kept focusing on you, even when he wasn’t supposed to. Why did he think of you during tests? Why did he love the way you smiled when you beat him? Why did a part of him want to lose at times, just so he can see that smile?)

Your change in your actions towards him, had a large affect on him. at first he was angry. How dare you avoid him? He tried to pretend it was fine, as if he didn’t care. Then he noticed how his heart aches when you didn’t eat with him any more at lunch. How when they did tests, you wouldn’t look at him. He hated it.

After a week of this, he noticed your changes. How you looked almost desperate when you were studying. How intently you were listening to the teacher, as if it was life or death. And how sometimes you seem to catch yourself before looking at him.

He had questions, so he did what the best detectives do. He investigated. He put a listening device in your back one day and listen to it after patrol, so he could figure out what was going on( why you wouldn’t smile at him).

After he listened, he grew angrier and angrier. How dare these idiots call themselves your parents and treat you like that? How dare they force you to be like this? He would destroy them for hurting his-

Wait, his? Why were you his?

He’s stewed over all of us for the next few days. He watched as he became more and more desperate, and as the bags under your eyes grew bigger and bigger. His anger grew more and more until the day before the exam, when he found you crying in the library.(he never took back the listening device. He liked listening to you, so when he couldn’t find in the lunchroom, he immediately turned it on and went to find you.)

You were stressed and tired. You would never put so much work in studying for an exam. You couldn’t risk not doing well. You started skipping meals, study, staying up late just so you made sure that you knew everything. Your breakdown was inevitable, and you were expecting to have some sort of breakdown, even if you didn’t want to. You didn’t expect Damian to find you.

When Damian saw you crying, all of the anger in him coiled tightly into a ball in the center of his rib cage. He wanted to rage and scream. He wanted to take out everyone who made you cry. But you didn’t need him to. You needed him to stay.

He was not used to comforting people, but he had watched Grayson and read enough books that you would recommend it to him that he knew to hug you. He held you while you sobbed. When he felt you stop crying, he turns just slightly, and realize you’d fallen asleep.

As he looked at your face, he remembered how his mother had described her love for his father. “ I looked at him and I knew I wanted him. He was important, and he would be mine.” he looked at your face, red and soft and thought of your smile. He knew this was what his mother had felt for his father. You were his, and you always would be no matter what.

Later you would wake up in the nurses office, there’s Damian holding your hand. The nurse would explain that you had passed out, which wasn’t uncommon for exams. You would be excused from all the classes you’d missed. He felt a tinge of fear about your permanent record, and how your family might notice that you didn’t see those classes, but all that was forgotten when the nurse left and Damian was alone with you.

You thanked him for helping you. He simply looked at you and asked why you were upset.(he knew some of it, of course he did, but he needed to know if there was more, what he had missed). With others, you would’ve brushed it off, but then you realize that Damien had voluntarily skipped class to be with you. A boy who didn’t like much physical contact had held you as you cried, and was still holding your hand. Your only friend had stayed with you despite any other obligation. So for the second time that day, you broke and sobbed and talked.

Damian held your hand while you talked. He kept his face a mask of concern, and he was concerned. However, he was also steaming. How dare they threaten to remove you from his sight, from him? The way you talked about your tutor didn’t help either. He despises that idiot for making you feel incompetent when you were anything but.

The next day, you were surprised at how your family hadn’t made any remarks about the classes you missed. When you took the exam, you were confident. A part of you was still scared, but you had made up with Damian. That made a lot of things feel better.

(later that night, Damien would open his laptop and check the scores. He already made his way into the school system, and marks you present for all the classes you missed the day before. Your score was exact, same as his. Quietly, he he changed his score to be one below yours. He logged out of the schools system, and then went into researching your family, and Lawrence. And if the next day Lawrence was arrested for a series of crimes? Well, it wasn’t is as if it was that surprising)

(the only reason he didn’t kill him was because it cost too much attention. Besides, father would not be pleased if they were somehow linked. Now, what was he to do about your family?)

[delulucoree]

Fake dating

—PROLOUGE—

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Stiles Stilinski, y/n y/l/n, and Scott Mcall have been best friends since before they can walk, and for the longest time it has been just the three of them, but you should have know that nothing stays the same forever.

It all began in the 3rd grade when stiles noticed Lydia Martin, a little red hea- excuse me, a little strawberry blonde headed girl, with green eyes and what stiles liked to described as the perfect shade of pink on her lips. Stiles was absolutely infatuated with Lydia, but there seemed to be one little problem, Lydia had no idea that he existed or well maybe she did, but couldn’t care less about the guy who had been in love with her for 8 years and counting. Now on the other hand you did notice stiles, your best friend since taking bubble baths together was still normal for your age, you took notice on the way his eyes would light up whenever someone talked about his favorite series, Star Wars, or the way he scrunched up his face whenever he got confused.

And for the longest time you tried to downplay the way he made you feel, the way your palms would suddenly become sweaty when he innocently grabs your hand or the way your knees would become week by just his sent alone and you didn’t fail to also pick up on the way your heart would slowly break every time stiles would mention Lydia’s name while speaking so highly about a girl who would use him as a step stool if she wanted to, and you wished that stiles would talk about you the same way he talked about her, but you were his best friend and he was yours and you painfully realized maybe that’s all you’ll ever be, friends.

And that it was best to keep your feelings bottled up because you would rather keep how you felt about him in the dark instead of potentially losing one of the best things in your life and after a while you had forgotten about the way he made your heart swell at the simple thought of him…until, he came up to you with that stupid, stupid question that you had slightly hoped was real.

“would you be my girlfriend?”

Stiles ran up to you and asked with a goofy grin on his face and at that moment you believed that he finally came to his senses. To which you quickly responded “ye-” only to be interrupted quicker “to make Lydia jealous” he had added, and you froze and you swore your heart stopped as well, and at that point you knew just how much of a chance you had with someone that ironically belonged to someone else…

"Are you out of your mind?!" You exasperated

"Cmon y/n/n please, just do me this one favor" to which you began to walk away, praying he will stop

"Stiles you know l'd do anything for you but this...this is a stretch" your heart began to pound at the thought of his crazy idea

"Please just until she notices me, I promise and you know I never break a promise" He looked at you with his big, brown, pleading eyes practically begging you to say yes and you can never turn down his puppy eyes and he knew that

*sighs* "just until she notices you?..."

"Just until she notices me"

"Fine. Don't make me regret this stilinski" and you really, really hope he didn’t make you regret falling in love with him all over again.

[argumentativeaxolotl]

Hey hey hey nerds I’m back at it again with some more CARS HUMAN AU HEADCANONS‼️‼️‼️ THIS TIME ITS ANGST 👹👹👹

Lightning McQueen:

- Bro 101% brushes off any concern he has for himself and uses all of that concern and worry that he’d use for himself on other people and his friends. He doesn’t think he really deserves to be cared after and looked after especially with how much of a dick he used to be- hence why he doesn’t care about himself as much anymore(still enough to keep up with his hotshot facade but if there’s actual danger or someone’s actually hurt he’ll ignore himself in favor of that person).

- I feel like this dumbass is an absolute MAGNET for trouble. Like even as a kid. Lil bro would get into trouble and somehow get hurt while being in a rubber room with rats. Him getting hurt all the time likely exasperated all the families that fostered him which would lead to him getting scolded by some of the… rougher families which led to Lightning being very reserved about himself, going back to the first headcanon above this one. He thinks he’s not worth the attention.

- Lightning was on his own as soon as he got to his Freshman year, this being his last foster family. They were pieces of shit and sort of treated him like he wasn’t there or that he was the cause of all their issues. This caused Lightning to lash out more than normal which is when he sort of came up with the persona of Lightning McQueen(the branding came from Harv later down the line). It was like a last line of defense which ended up helping him only for a little while(then radiator springs happened and blah blah blah).

- He was so used to being treated like shit that Harv’s horrendous treatment of him wasn’t a red flag until Mack came into the picture and stood up for him a few times, the truck driver telling Harv to piss off.

Chick Hicks:

- He never finished his education. In my AU I think Chick would have been forced into racing at a young age by his father after his brother’s death. Chick’s father would be so obsessed with one of his kids becoming a great racer, essentially living through that child, that he wouldn’t give two shits in what Chick or his brother would want to do. Chick’s father likely brought Chick to a bunch of races as a kid which led to him missing many many classes and falling behind his peers. This happened in seventh-eighth grade which led to Chick never going to Highschool as he became the next up and coming racer.

- His father was a pile of absolute, burning, human shit. The man would hurt both of his kids- physically and emotionally- while also sort of putting all his own traumas into his kids, living through them and making Chick into him. Young Chick would likely want to make his father proud and would constantly try to adhere to his father’s words and whatever the man said- examples being shit like “crashing is a part of racing” or “give them a little nudge out of the way” or some shit which would lead Chick into the madman we know today.

- His brother was the only positive “adult” figure in his life and his brother tried his damndest to get Chick to not be like their shitty father, yet the brother just wasn’t around long enough. Chick was absolutely fucking devastated when his brother died and didn’t respond to any outside stimuli for at least a week or two. Their father mourned before moving on and suddenly acknowledging Chick, acting like he was his only son.

- Chick is 100% still haunted by the dying light in his brother’s eyes, having watched him die after a horrific crash. Chick never wanted to push cars out of his way, having seeing what it did to his brother, yet something in Chick wouldn’t let him fight against his father’s shitty teachings. Chick can remember every detail of that day and sometimes wishes it was him instead.

Strip Weathers:

- One time when Cal got severely sick, like bedridden for a week sick, Strip got horrific flashbacks to when his mother passed away due to a terminal illness. Strip was so scared and terrified that he spent so much money on doctors alone. Lynda tried to calm him down, telling Strip that it was just a nasty case of the flu or something along those lines, but Strip just couldn’t lose another family member- especially not one he saw as his son.

- Strip wanted to be a doctor so he could help his mother with her illness and so he could try to find a cure so nobody else had to go through what she did. He put in so much effort and tried so hard, conducting research and studying hard so he could become a doctor. Then his mother passed away when he was still in med school, leaving him shattered and blaming himself for somehow not graduating faster. Tex was there for Strip.

- He dropped out of med school in favor of racing since he didn’t think he would be able to continue after his mother passed. He felt useless for a long time, drinking his pain away for a few years- never during a race- until he met Lynda and she helped bring him back to himself.

- After his crash during the tie breaker, he’s felt immense pain in his wrists and shoulders and neither he nor the doctors know why. It’s not killing him but it lingers and sometimes he just can’t move for a while.

Doc Hudson:

- Doc has a similar thing to Strip where after his crash he just had horrendous pain shooting all throughout his limbs and back. He’s not sure what it is, but either way it’s thankfully lessened over the years, now being dull aches or more joint pain than usual whenever it gets colder.

- Sometimes he’ll randomly have a flashback to when he was back in the Hornet or being wheeled to the hospital during/after the crash. Doc never really got over it and stupidly never saw a therapist about this. These flashes often make him feel worse than he already does, leaving him in a shitty mood and grumpy and more than a little scared to get into the Hornet. Over the years, these flashes have gotten less and less to the point where it’s once or twice every couple years at random.

- Him becoming an actual doctor wasn’t because he had so much time on his hands after the crash- also that was part of it- but it was because that was his sister’s dying dream- to become a doctor and help people.

- His older sister passed away sometime before Doc’s crash so when he was still young. She was much older than him- roughly ten-ish year age gap. They were still close.

Thank you for your time lmao now it’s time for me to disappear for like three months again <3 HAPPY HALLOWEEN‼️‼️‼️

[formulawonu]

mingyu & shopping

summary: best friend!mingyu is arguably the best thing that has ever happened to you but everyone else is in love with him so you have the lucky privilege of humbling him all the time 

a/n: i wanted to post this on mingyu day but i clearly didn’t make it ://  just a small blurb for our birthday boy. belated happy birthday, gyu. i hope you’re smiling everyday <3 also this isnt proofread sorry! also thank u for 500 followerssssss <3 <3 <3

wc: 605 😸

“not everything looks good on you, kim mingyu. reel it in a little.” 

—and that makes lie number three you’ve told your best friend today. the first was telling him how tiring it was seeing his face every morning when he picked you up (it was actually the best part of your otherwise dreary day) and the second was you telling him you didn’t care if he asked this one girl out (it bothered you more than it should have).

mingyu makes eye contact with you in the mirror and scoffs at the look on your face. “i don’t know why i always bring you along with me. you never say anything looks good on me.” he starts angling himself and squinting at the mirror, probably trying to figure out if he really didn’t look good in the outfit. 

it was funny to you that mingyu took everything you told him to heart. whether it be teasing him on how clumsy he could be to how much of a closet dork he was, his reactions to it all always made you laugh. you befriended mingyu in the fifth grade because you were the lone person who had the guts to tell him being tall wasn’t as big of an advantage as he thought it was; you thought it just made him more susceptible to being bossed around to do favors for everyone else shorter than him. he bickered back, saying you were just jealous because you were shorter than him. you replied saying you didn’t want to have his height if it meant not being able to handle the truth of the matter. 

that was the first time someone wasn’t praising mingyu for the things he was simply born with. he thought you were being real and you thought he was cute. it was the perfect dynamic to becoming best friends.

“that’s what best friends are for,” you say. you flash him a smile and he rolls his eyes. “you know i’m hopelessly in love with you regardless of how ugly you look in that sweater anyway.” 

your best friend groans then turns away from the mirror to face you. he starts striking the silliest poses at you (still managing to look good, you add in the back of your head.) he sends you a genuine smile. “i know. and i love you too.” 

your heart flutters even when you know he doesn’t mean it in the way you wished he would. you continue to watch him try on clothes, happily content with wasting away your saturday afternoon like this. 

“are you excited for our date tonight?” he asks you as he pays for his clothes at the register. 

“i’m always excited when you’re paying.” you reply.

mingyu jokingly frowns. “sometimes i feel like you’re just using me for my money.”

“okay, but who else will put up with you?” 

he reaches over and pinches your cheek, knowing you hate it when he does that. you attempt to swat his hand away but he catches it and interlocks your fingers. the cashier looks at the both of you and smiles as she hands over his bag of clothes and receipt. mingyu takes it with his free hand. “you two are so cute. enjoy the rest of your day!” you’re about to protest but mingyu simply says thank you and pulls you out of the store. 

as you walk down the street with your best friend, still hand in hand, you let yourself revel in the simplicity of the moment. this would do for now – maybe forever – as long as it meant always having kim mingyu by your side.

[truthfulpoint]

Mom's Sexual Therapy

It was late May, and the heat kept rolling over us in waves and scorched the grass outside. Despite being thirty-eight, I enjoyed wearing tops and miniskirts, but as a psychologist and mainly having men as clients that would be impossible. I even felt like my black stockings and a knee-length skirt still brought a bit too much attention as I desperately tried to focus on their lives in order to help them.

And even though I tried to cover up as much as possible, I couldn’t hide my wide hips or big breasts straining against my clothing. I couldn’t remember the last time one of my clients’ eyes did not “accidentally” trail to my chest. It didn’t bother me, but it wouldn’t help them to get well.

I popped the buttons free on my cardigan and pulled it off me. I then saw the display on my phone flashing and noticed a text from Aisha: my colleague and best friend. On the rooftop!

I was dying to get out of this room. I went upstairs and reached our special place. She sat already under the patio umbrella with two cups of tea and some pastries on a round table.

I fanned my face and slumped down on the lounge chair. “It feels like I’m melting.”

Her loose ginger hair hung freely about her, and she pushed it behind her ears and pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. “No wonder with the types of clothes you’re wearing.”

I pulled the white top over my head, and once it cleared my head, my breasts bounced free and almost knocked the cup of tea off the table. “Careful there with your well-endowed rack,” Aisha giggled, moving my cup of tea aside.

“My savior,” I said and kicked her with my feet. “I’m glad to see that you’re also appropriately dressed.”

“I’ll never leave a friend hanging.” She sat there in a pink bikini, and her face was peppered with cute freckles. I was glad she hadn’t gotten too tanned since her milk-white skin was the perfect match for her hair.

I took a sip of my tea, broke off a cookie and nibbled on it silently. I didn’t know if I wanted to bring up the topic that had bothered me for the entire month, or even a year. Aisha already knew parts of the story, but I hadn’t told her that he’d even slipped further down the slippery slope.

She searched my face, and as a friend, she knew me better than I thought. “Is it Ron?”

I met her blue, caring eyes. Despite being a bit naughtier than me adult-wise, she was equally as caring as a psychologist. Her petite frame was less intimidating, like a cute little ginger cake impossible to resist. “Yeah,” I said with a deep sigh as I washed the cookie down with a bit of tea.. “He isn’t doing well at all.”

“What’s the matter with him? I remember when his father used to be alive. Your son was so charming and social. He even dismissed me once because he needed to catch up with some friends.”

“Something has possessed him. I don’t think it was because of his father’s death since he was healthy for a long time after that.”

“Does he date?” Aisha asked with hints of interest. I knew she had a thing for younger men, and it wasn’t difficult with her rare looks to bring them to her bosom. She’d even rejected an old stinky millionaire to get a nineteen-year-old college stud … The same age as Ron.

“I wished,” I said. “He spends most of his time bunkered up in his bedroom. There’s very little to no social interactions.”

“I’ve read something very similar in the new psychologist magazine. Teens all over the world are becoming more and more isolated. Even in Japan, they don’t have an interest in girls anymore, just screens … and porn.”

My lips tugged into a smile when she mentioned it. “We also watch porn now and then.”

“Well … those teens in Japan masturbate up to eight times a day. Now you can’t compare that with our dirty nights now and then.”

“Do you think such an addiction can ruin him to the point he drops out of college and can’t even find a job anywhere?”

Aisha gasped. “He dropped out of college?”

“Last week,” I said, on the verge of crying.

“I thought his grades were good,” she said and looked completely bewildered. “What is he up to now then, I mean, his future plans?”

“He doesn’t have any and refuses to talk to me.” It devastated me and made my heart sink.

Aisha was quickly there and laid her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him but I should be able to have a chat with him.”

“Well, it’s because he likes you,” I said, making dimples blossom on both her pinkening cheeks. “I so badly want to get to the bottom of it, but I just can’t. I mean, if I could try to get him an appointment with you, would you mind?”

“If I would mind?” she said. “Are you crazy? Of course, I will help him.”

“If I do manage to talk him into this, can you just promise one thing?”

“What’s that?” she asked, already excited about this as her nipples began stiffening against her bikini.

“Just please wear some appropriate clothes during the meeting.”

Her lips flattened to a line and she answered with an eye roll, “As you wish.”

We finished our cookies and tea and then put on our clothes again, heading back to work.

**Ron**

I wiped another load from my stomach, crumpled up the messy tissue paper and tossed it right into the bin, on top of the heap of other tissue papers. I let out a sigh as I glanced out the window. It was bright, almost to the point it dazzled me, but I felt no joy, and to be honest, I missed the darker and colder seasons because I would have an excuse to remain inside.

My eyes flicked back to my laptop and scanned the title of the video: Mom teaches her son. The semen was already dripping from her blonde face as he squeezed out the last drops of cum on top of her snubbed nose. It was one of my biggest, forbidden dreams—To have my own mother take care of me like that. I’d tried to suppress those dreams for so long, but resistance was futile. It was only a couple of months ago, I’d actually masturbated while fantasizing about her for the first time, and I’d never felt so good in my life. The forbidden high was addictive, but it wasn’t just the incest part that made it so thrilling, but my mom was gorgeous: a solid eleven on a ten scale, and she kept aging like fine wine.

But they were just forbidden dreams at the moment and unlikely to come true, especially after the blow to her heart last week when I told her I had dropped out. I could tell it broke her heart, but I had no choice. College was tormenting me to the point I considered killing myself.

My father died ten years ago when I was nine, and my mom had raised me as a single mom ever since. Even though it had been tough for her, she’d been committed to raising me well, and I knew she wanted to do anything to see me succeed. She was a young, dedicated mom after all, and ever since puberty, I’d looked at her a bit differently. I tried my hardest not to let my imagination run wild, but it was near impossible since she oozed sex appeal. Her busty boobs jiggled for every step she took. Her narrow waist and flaring hips looked perfect as if sculpted, and on top of that, she had the most gorgeous hair, cascading all over her in loose curls. But looks weren’t everything with that woman. She was the most caring person in the world and no doubt about that as she dedicated her full time to restoring and healing people’s mental health.

I had lost all focus on college as my friends and I grew apart. They started finding girlfriends and going to parties, slowly leaving me out in the cold. I’d gotten a few invitations at the beginning of my college year, but for some reason, I just ignored those parties, something I regretted now. It was hard to explain, but I just always felt different, as if I wasn’t good enough or lacked something. My mom had insisted that I had been social and charming before, but I believed she was just imagining things.

As time moved on and I became more isolated, I sought comfort in porn. The porn addiction became so bad I needed stronger stuff and led to more taboo flicks which was a double-edged sword. It felt thrilling but it also made me question if something was wrong with me. It was already evening and this was my sixth time. I was on course to jerk my skin off, but I knew it wouldn’t stop me from masturbating later.

My mom drove up the driveway, and I quickly closed the porn tabs and went to the bathroom to clean myself.

Opening the door, she called from downstairs, “Ron?”

“I’m here,” I shouted back at her.

“I have dinner for you. Let’s eat outside.”

“I’m coming,” I shouted back. After washing myself, I descended the stairs with something obvious weighing me down. I was depleted, drained and lacked the energy to accomplish anything.

I already picked up the scent as I headed out the veranda and knew she’d bought my favorite burgers—another one of her kind acts. A lovely deed that not any other parents would do to their sons after telling them that they’d dropped out.

She patted the cushion next to her, and her wide hips were almost big enough for two. “How are you?” she asked. She wore her golden blonde hair up in a ponytail, exposing her cute face. She was dressed in a body-hugging skirt and a top, which made her cleavage clearly visible. Just seeing her there in front of me made my cock bob, even if I tried to suppress my embarrassing dreams.

“I’m alright.”

“Have you sent out some resumes yet?” she asked.

I’d promised her to find a job when I dropped the bomb on her and said I was dropping out, but it was just something I’d said to relieve the pain I knew I inflicted upon her. I had no idea if there were any jobs out there for a guy like me. “I’m looking.”

“It’s alright, take your time,” she said and smiled briefly. “Let’s eat for now.”

We ate together and also talked about various topics. I had a feeling that she held onto a secret of some sort and prepared to reveal it. It made me eat slower, but the burger was so tasty it was near impossible to resist. Sure enough, when I stuffed the last bit of the bun in my mouth, she drew in a deep breath. “I just need to talk to you for a little,” she said. I could only look at those rare blue gems for less than a second before I had to lower my gaze. They were too valuable for me. She lowered her hand on my thigh, making me stiff as her soft fingers kept drawing circles on my skin. “Is it okay for you?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I know we have tried this before,” she said, not with a sigh but like she wanted the best for me. “I know something is bothering you and it’s weighing you down, and as a mother, I want the best for you.”

I couldn’t suppress the blush creeping up on my cheeks. “Sure,” I said and felt the urge to leave. If it hadn’t been for the fact her soft fingers were drawing intimate circles on my thigh, I would have gotten the hell out of there.

“If you don’t want me to help you with this. Then please, can you at least let my friend Aisha try?”

Aisha … that petite redhead kept running through my mind. She was another piece of delicious eye candy: a fiery ginger peppered with freckles. It was more than half a year ago I spoke to her last, right when I was about to slip down the porn slope but still somewhat functioned socially. “I don’t know,” I said and didn’t know how I was supposed to reveal my porn habit to her best friend. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“So it is something that bothers you?” she asked and looked relieved since I hadn’t even told her that before.

“Yes, it is,” I said and lowered my head in shame.

“Can’t you at least let her try?” she asked. “For my and your own sake. I can’t just watch your life pass by like this. Especially now during your heyday. You should be out having fun and not be buried in your bedroom.”

“Yeah … maybe you are right.” It didn’t feel so uncomfortable to talk to Aisha about this. The only thing that worried me was that I knew those two women were close as sisters.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

I looked at her and saw the optimism and hope in her eyes, making her look ten times younger. I didn’t want to see that glow disappear from her since I loved her too. “Okay, I’ll talk to her, but I’ll feel a little bit more comfortable when it will be a time you aren’t there.”

“I will be out on a lunch break when you’ll be there, don’t worry, hon.” She opened up her arms and embraced me, her breasts mashing against my chest, and I felt her forbidden breath against my neck, making me shiver with guilty pleasure.

The following day, I was on my way there, I entered my mom’s private psychology clinic. I rang the doorbell, and I heard the high heels clacking on the floor. Aisha opened, dressed in a mini skirt and black stockings. But it was her skin-tight V-knit cardigan that made my jaw drop, showing off her flat tummy and jiggling breasts. I had to close my jaw as I noticed her extended hand in front of me. I shook her hand, and she gave it the softest squeeze I’d felt in a long time. “I’m sorry,” I apologized when she noticed that I’d gawked at her.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ve been a teen too. Anyway, nice to see you again.”

“You too,” I said and hoped I didn’t sound too awkward.

“Come, let’s get some privacy.” She escorted me to her room, her hips swaying side to side on her way. It was sparkling clean, and even the corners of the hall were dust free and reflected the light from the ceiling. She welcomed me into a room with a comfortable chaise lounge. “Relax and make yourself feel at home.”

I sank onto the chaise lounge and tried to keep my eyes on the ceiling, but gravity pulled them down to her breasts that sat firm and high on her chest. I had no idea if psychologists were usually this under-clothed, but I honestly didn’t mind. “So, I’m assuming something is bothering you,” she began gently, “otherwise you wouldn’t have come here, am I correct?”

I nodded and swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said and prepared myself to open up about my misery.

“Keep in mind, to take your time and be comfortable. It’s just you and me in this room, and we got nothing but time.”

I nodded and mulled over what and how I would tell her. “It’s everything. A year ago, my friends started slowly to drift away from me, to the point I was abandoned. Going to college started feeling painful, so I then dropped out. The worst thing about this is that I’m certain I’ve hurt my mother, and she is the last woman in this world that deserves any pain.”

“Let’s go back to a year ago,” she said and wanted to get to the bottom of this. “Why did they start to drift away from you?”

“They were going to parties, and I sort of withdrew.”

“Withdrew where?”

“To my bedroom mostly.”

“Was there a source of comfort you were seeking there?”

I sighed, and she was better than I imagined. “Yes, it’s an addiction that started three years ago but spiraled out of control last year and especially since winter.”

She buttoned two buttons free on her cardigan, exposing her cleavage. “I just want you to know that I’m an expert when it comes to addictions and have helped many before you. But you have to let me know what I’m dealing with.”

I blushed and then dragged my eyes from her delicious body and up to the ceiling. It was this part which was so difficult for me to admit, and revealing it made me lower my head in shame, “I’m severely addicted to porn.”

She nodded slowly as if it wasn’t a surprise for her. “Do you know what,” she said and leaned closer, so her breasts hung down. “There are a lot of porn addicts out there, but they don’t even know they are addicted to it. You have taken a great first step and I’m sure you will break free from this addiction by coming clean about it.”

It gave me some hope. “Do you think so?”

She leaned back. “I’m more than certain.”

It felt as if she lifted the weight off my shoulders. “But it’s just so embarrassing. If it was drugs, I wouldn’t have an issue telling my mom. I just don’t want her to believe I’m lazy or don’t like her. You’ve no idea how many times she’s tried talking to me.”

“Oh, I know your mom well enough,” Aisha said with a cryptic wink, revealing she knew her perhaps a bit better than I thought. “She’s a sweetheart. I can’t imagine living without her.”

“Do you think she understands?”

“Of course, she is a very understanding person. I’m certain she would never believe that you don’t want to speak with her, but of course, when she doesn’t know it becomes difficult for her to help you.”

I sighed. “But it’s more to my addiction than just porn though.”

“I’m listening,” she said and leaned back.

“Well … Lately I’ve been watching some taboo stuff,” I said and didn’t know whether I was revealing too much. “I just need something stronger and thrilling.”

“Okay,” she said professionally. “Go on when you feel comfortable.”

“It’s incest porn,” I said, coming clean about it, lowering my head in shame. “I’ve fantasized about my mom too.”

“Hey, lift your head up,” she said and placed her finger under my chin and gave it a lift. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed over.”

“To fantasize about having sex with my own mom?”

She shook her head. “It’s not … She’s very attractive after all, so I can’t judge you for it. And besides, we all have our fetishes.”

“But how am I supposed to come clean about my porn addiction to her?” I didn’t know if I’d told her too much and prayed psychologists kept the conversations with their clients to themselves. “That’s why I find it so hard to talk to her about it. She’s a part of my deepest, forbidden fantasy.”

“I see where you’re coming from and you’ve all the right reasons to act the way you’ve done the past months. It’s not an easy situation, but I just want you to know there are ways to break free from this addiction, and I have a feeling she will be a part of that equation.”

I blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

“She will be there to give you a helping hand in your journey to sobriety.”

**Mom**

I have to speak with you now, Aisha texted me right after her appointment with Ron. I had done as my son wished and had grabbed some lunch downtown. I was now trying to hurry back with my belly full. Her text intrigued me, and I prayed that she’d gotten to the bottom of his misery.

She was already on the rooftop, and right when she saw me, she waved at me like mad. “Yeah, I’m coming,” I said with a chuckle. I entered the building, ran up the stairs and opened the door leading to the roof. She had prepared a lounge chair for me, and I sat down and then noticed her eyes were round like saucers, and she kept shifting in her seat.

“Gosh, what’s happened to you?” I asked.

She pushed her ginger hair behind her ears and leaned toward me. “It was exactly what I suspected,” she said and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He admitted he has a porn addiction.”

“Why are you speaking like that?” I giggled and looked around. “No one is up here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you listen to me?”

“I did. He must have done well to hide it if that’s the case.”

“Well, there was another reason why he never wanted to share his habit with you.”

“And why’s that?” I asked.

“You are a part of his addiction,” she said and grabbed my hand.

I stabbed myself with my thumb. “Me? What do you mean?”

“He opened up that he’d started watching more and more taboo stuff,” she said and tried the hardest to suppress her impending grin.

“What taboo stuff?”

“Incest,” she dropped the bomb, her eyes widening with excitement. “Mom and son.”

I froze for a moment and then mulled it over. I’d caught him peeking here and there, but I’d never put the puzzle pieces together, or it was just me who refused to believe it. Although ever since his father died and my son had hit puberty, I couldn’t help but throw sideways glances at him too. “Are you sure?”

“It’s true,” she said.

“You sure it isn’t just the horny side of you I’m speaking with now?” I tried again.

She gave me a look. “Why do you refuse to believe it?”

I drummed my fingers on the table and thought for a moment. “I’m grateful you got that out of him, but we should look for ways to help him now.”

“Why are you trying to dodge this?”

“It’s just a bit overwhelming,” I explained. “First, you tell me that he admitted he’s severely addicted to porn, which I’m happy he admitted in the first place, but then you take this twist and say that I’m a part of his addiction.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said and took my arm again. “Let me explain. I’m saying you should give him a helping hand to recover.”

“I don’t like the way you emphasized hand in this context,” I said and gave her a look.

“I’m sure he will,” she said and waggled her eyebrows.

I gave her a light kick with my feet. “Let’s be serious here.”

“I am. I’m certain you can easily fix his addiction, quicker than what you believe.”

“How exactly? If he’s been addicted for years, he won’t just throw the laptop in the bin.”

“You have to reward him for every day he manages to go without porn and set up certain milestones like getting a job. It will be like a quest for him and he has no reason to fall back. And besides, I know you look at him too.”

“Aisha … he’s my son. Of course, I look at him.”

“I know you’ve been looking at him in a different way too since his father died,” she said and looked at me firmly.

I sighed and didn’t know whether I should fight this any longer. “What if someone finds out? I mean I can get in trouble for this.”

“How would anyone find out?” she asked and gave me a caring smile. “I’ve been your best friend for years, and you know Ron is certainly going to be quiet about this.”

It dawned on me that she perhaps was right. “It’s just that …”

“What is it, hon?” she asked. “I’m your psychologist now, so let it out.”

I chuckled and there was a reason why I loved that woman. “Okay, I will admit I do find him attractive, but I don’t want to be selfish.”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “Do this solely for him and also, view this as an opportunity to even get closer.”

**Ron**

I heard her park her car up the driveway and it made my heart beat quicker. “Ron?” she called for me by the stairs.

“I’m outside,” I shouted back at her. She hurried outside, her hair spilling over her shoulders and her tight pencil dress that hugged her curves. She was so attractive that I couldn’t help but gawk at her beauty.

“So you’re sitting here today,” she said with a smile.

Somehow it had gladdened her that I didn’t bury myself up in my room for an entire sunny day. “I just needed some fresh air.”

She sat down next to me, and I met her loving eyes for a brief moment and then looked away. “How did the appointment go?”

“Better than expected,” I admitted and searched her face in case she knew about it. “Uhm, did she tell you anything?”

“She did,” she said and couldn’t lie to me. “And I need to talk to you about something, but don’t worry.” She pressed her sweet lips right onto my right cheek. “You will get better and you will get through this.”

Right where her lips had touched, a blush spread like fire. I couldn’t remember the last time she kissed me like that. “You have nothing to be embarrassed over. Do you want to talk now or after dinner?”

The talk … It was that part that made me consider running up to my bedroom. “I … talk about what exactly?”

“Your addiction.”

I swallowed. “It’s difficult to talk about.”

“I’m also a psychologist, don’t forget that,” she reminded me.

“You are also my mom,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, and why can’t I be both for you?”

“I don’t know.”

She took both my hands and gave them a motherly squeeze. “I’ve had many clients struggling with severe addictions. It’s not like I don’t know what’s bothering you. And it will hurt me to know that I could’ve done more for you while I still had the chance.”

She was right, and I couldn’t stand another blow to her well-being, especially after what I did to her a week ago. “I’m open to this conversation,” I mumbled.

“Thank you,” she said and pressed her hand over her heart, squeezing them between her cleavage. “So, be honest with me … How many times a day do you watch porn?”

“Six times is a usual day for me, but it can be more,” I told her and lowered my head.

“And how many times have you masturbated today?” I sighed and struggled to answer her. She patted my shoulder, reminding me she was still here for me. “Don’t worry, take your time.”

“Three times.”

“If you won’t masturbate till you go to bed, I will give you a reward.”

I stiffened. The way she said reward … It didn’t sound like it was a cookie from the jar but more like honey from the honeypot. “What kind of reward?” I asked carefully.

She raked her fingers through my hair and then said in a low voice in case our neighbors were listening, “A handjob.”

My heart was about to jump out of my chest, as hot confused blood flushed in my cheeks and behind my eyes. “Did she tell you about the taboo stuff?”

She nodded slowly but surely. “She did.”

“Mom, I don’t know about this.”

She held onto my hands firmly, refusing to let go. “Ron, if this is what it will take to break the habit, then please, let me.”

“Both of us can get arrested.”

“I know but we will keep this a secret.”

I looked away for a brief moment as I was lost for words. “Watching something is one thing but doing it is another.”

“What does your heart tell you?”

“I find you attractive,” I said and lowered my head in shame. “You’re gorgeous, Mom.”

“Look me in the eyes, son,” she said and lifted my chin. “I’m a young mom and have had you since I was a teenager. I’ve overcome challenges too. I know it will be a new chapter in our lives, but things will remain the same between us. I promise it will.”

I just loved the way she held my hand, and it was a touch to die for. I started delving into my taboo fantasies where her soft hands stroked my length till I spurted my cum all over her fingers. Even if I tried to make it sound like I was embarrassed; I couldn’t resist the taboo temptation. I craved her flesh and had done so for a long time. “How far are you willing to go?” I asked. “I mean. I will admit it will be difficult today but I will try my hardest to not masturbate till I go to bed, but after tomorrow, then what?”

“I’m willing to go as far as it will take to see you back on your feet again.”

I nodded for myself and understood she was more than committed to this. “Okay.”

“Can you look me in the eyes?” I did as she wished and was dazzled by her pretty gems. “There. You look so much better already.”

“Thank you.”

“I will prepare some dinner for us, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll just go out for a walk in the meanwhile.”

The sky finally darkened, and I sat at my desk with a wooden ladle clenched between my teeth. I heard the stairs creak as my mom made her way upward. It was time. “Ron, are you there?” she asked and opened the bedroom door. Halting at the threshold, she gasped. “Is it that bad?”

I nodded as a tear of pain ran down my right cheek.

“Gosh, I’ll hurry, let me just brush my teeth and get my gown on.”

I prepared myself as well, taking off my shirt and pulling down my shorts. I was surprised my underwear was still in one piece and that my cock hadn’t burst right through it. I sat down in my bed and leaned back, trying to breathe deeply as my mom would give me a handjob.

Finally, I heard how she hurried up the stairs and stepped in, dressed in her purple nightgown. It was a size too tight for her as her round breasts strained against it, exactly how her breasts did with all her clothes. She wasn’t wearing a bra since I could see her nipples poking against her garment. “Didn’t mean to leave you hanging,” she said and gently closed the door, leaving us some privacy even if it wasn’t anyone else living under this roof.

“It’s alright for now,” I said and tried to hide my pain as I knew the relief would soon be here.

She had a hard time taking her eyes off the bulge. She descended onto her knees and curled her fingers around the waistband, preparing to reveal my cock. “Are you ready?”

I nodded and accepted her therapy. The time had anyway come to stop suppressing these fantasies. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

She pulled the waistband over my manhood, and it reared up and was an inch from slapping her in the face. My cock could finally breathe. “What a thick girth,” she said and looked genuinely surprised as her fingers crawled toward my erection.

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” I asked and tried to pour some humor into this taboo situation.

“No, I would never do that,” she said firmly and looked me in the eyes, but the eye contact didn’t last long as her eyes strayed back to my cock. “This is way beyond average.”

She curled her fingers around the upper shaft and then her left took the lower part. She gave my cock a downward stroke, revealing the purple crown. “Is this your first handjob?” she asked and smiled as if it were nothing strange that a mother held her son’s erection.

“Yeah,” I said and leaned back as the warmth from her hands radiated to my hard-on and traveled across every nerve and muscle of my body.

“Does it feel good when I hold you like this?” she asked with a grin and probably noticed my deepened breathing.

“It feels really good.”

“Give me a sec, and I will take care of you, son. I just don’t like to rush things.” She spat in both of her hands and lubricated my cock till it glistened. She then let one hand slide down the head and then the next and then the next. It was a long slow motion, pleasuring the sensitive head first and then cascading down, only to be back up with her other hand that glided down on my shaft.

“Hmm, that feels good,” I said and shivered in pleasure as her right hand stroked down my head and shaft. I’d never seen such a technique before, but it made me curl my toes already.

In the middle of it all, I caught a foreign scent in this room. I’d never picked up the smell before, but it was sweet, musky and came from between her legs and just got stronger during this act.

She spat in her hands again, and I looked at her while she held intimate eye contact throughout the act. As she applied another layer of her fresh lube, she started stroking my cock up and down in a twisting motion. “Oh, Mom, that feels good,” I said.

“Are you getting there?” she asked and smiled caringly while she continued to use her hands on my cock.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding as my temperature rose. I seized the coverlet and was about to tear it in two as she twisted quicker and deeper. “Almost there, Mom,” I said and curled my toes.

“It’s okay, son. I’m doing this for you,” she said and smiled even wider as her experienced hands kept gliding up and down my manhood that was covered in her spit. I tipped my head back as my orgasm climbed higher and higher till I reached the peak. I arched my back and inhaled sharply. Letting go of my breath, I fired hard into her hands, making the cum splash back onto herself and back to my waist. I caught my breath and stared at her wide-eyed as I’d partly covered my mom’s face and hands in my sticky seed.

“Jesus,” I said and raked my fingers through my hair.

“What a thick load,” she giggled and slowly milked me, not wanting to let go of my cock yet as if she wanted this moment to last longer, and to be fair, so did I.

I slumped back and could finally breathe, watching my cum drip from her fingers. She rose and got out some tissue papers. “Probably going to need more than one for this.” She wiped the pearlescent beads from her face and then cleaned my stomach. I was still out of breath, speechless that this had actually happened after all these years.

She pulled up my underwear and then leaned in for a kiss, this time slightly closer to my lips than the last. “I just want you to know that I am proud of you.”

“I’m grateful to have you as a mom,” I told her and looked her in the eyes.

The full story is 30k words long and contains way more than a handjob. You can find it on my website [Mom's Sexual Therapy](https://juliusincestus.com/product/moms-sexual-therapy/?utm_source=reddit&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=Book+promotion) Nude cover + nude art of Mom included!

Thank you for reading.

My comment made her smile as well. “How was it compared to doing it by yourself?”

“It felt way better,” I admitted.

“Then you’ll get through this. I got more rewards in store for you.”

“Are you sure things will remain the same with us?” I asked her.

“No,” she said. “It will even get better.”

I believed her. “And what about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, no porn or masturbation at all, and if you succeed, tomorrow evening, I will give you another handjob—naked, plus, I will let you cum on my body.”

My eyes popped wide open, and I drank in her curves and breasts. It was just her loose robe covering her goddess-like body that I’d lusted over for so long. I stared wide-eyed at her breasts which were the two forbidden fruits I’d only seen in my most forbidden dreams. “Do you mean it?”

She nodded and pulled her robe slightly apart, flashing the insides of her breasts, just where her areola was. It was less than an inch to her nipples. “They will wait for you tomorrow. I know you got this.”

Oh god, this was actually happening. She kissed my cheek again and wished me goodnight.

Thank you for reading.

[alanaartdream]

Oh hey there it’s Artist Alana from Alanaartdream (the tumblr; the YouTube; the instagram; the TikTok and twitter witch is trying to go by X now but most of use still just call it twitter… I also have a fb but I don’t go be alanaartdream on there and only mostly use it to keep track of what my family is up to and see how a friend who refuses to use anything but Facebook and YouTube ;-; I’d really wish she’d use tumblr again because Facebook is full of trouble honestly)

As some of you who been following me on YouTube/ tumblr/ TikTok and instagram would know I have adhd ( one of the 3 types of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder)

My parents discovered I had it when I was seven but at the time Dr use to think kids would outgrow adhd so just gave my mum medication 💊 for it and left it at that so my dad was of the idea I didn’t need to know what I was taking medication for and left it at that BUT my mum who cared about me and actually paid attention to me realised yeah that wasn’t the case and that the medicine wasn’t really helping so took kid me to all sorts of tutors and trying to find people who could help kids like me at the time And informed me I have adhd when I was a teenager (witch at the time felt like a slap to the face but glad she at least was trying her best to help me deal with best way she knew how and with what help was available at the time;; she really had to take me to all sorts of places and try out different teachers to help kid me to learn abcs so I can at least read and sort of write this out to you all now (my spelling & grammar still isn’t great but at least you can read what I write out now disspit all the mistakes) also there’s a few other adhd people on TikTok I follow who give great advice to help deal with adhd and talk about it in ways to help explain it better and one of them is who I was watching while drawing some Fairly Odd parents Timmy Turner and Danny Phantom while watching them being as my adhd brain likes to draw what it likes to focus on and one of it’s favourite things to focus on is cartoons/ animation as well as manga/comics it will be what I end up drawing most of the time

Also part of why I’ll forever be a defender of Timmy Turner because I can see a lot of his schooling troubles are because the human adults in his life are so blind to his struggles and don’t really care to help him like his found family do and he could do so much better if he truly had the support he needed to do better I believe he would

Like his parents don’t even try to help him with his homework or to make sure he does it; they can hire a babysitter? But not a tutor

Heck his mother was a stay at home one yet she chooses to ignore him or go spend money on the shopping network and leave him with a babysitter (and the dad is even worse) look my own mother was a stay at home mum but she didn’t ignore my sisters and I and once we got to age where we didn’t need as much watching went back into working (because dad I think starting travelling overseas for work and was losing interest in being a family man (think he didn’t want to be married anymore by this point)) what the heck is Timmy’s mum even doing??? Like she only has one child to raise at least she doesn’t have 3 and she’s ignoring him to go shopping?

My mum would make sure we did homework by sitting down with us to help if we were struggling; heck at least once or twice my dad did too when it came to big projects but never once did I see Timmy’s parents do that for him (( and then they had the nerve to blame Timmy’s bad grades all on him hello it’s on them as well they never sat down with him to make sure he’s doing homework or to check if he needed help; parents are supposed to help their kids with the homework and if Cocker wasn’t such a bad teacher he would’ve called Timmy’s parents in to rain them in as well; never once did cocker ask to meet up with Timmy’s parents to talk about his bad grades; only time he did was to try to enroll Timmy into his fake boot camp/ army school) butch never through to address these issues and would just blame it on Timmy half the time when his parents were just as much to blame

No parent now can afford to be a stay at home parent;; but they cannot afford to ignore their kids now because now everyone is more aware of these issues but when fairly odd parents was frist out people didn’t really think about these things like they do now but I hope they don’t gloss over how bad Timmy birth parents were

I just hope Timmy’s doing better away from his human parents in fairly odd parents a new wish series if they get around to another season of it hopefully

[romancingromanoff]

This is a Life

Andy of Scythia x f!reader

Summary: You end up escaping an arranged marriage set up by your abusive mother in a strange way.

TW: Verbal/physical child abuse (child is now over 18 but it is implied that it has been going on for some time), arranged/forced marriage, 1950′s typical homophobia, somewhat graphic death/injuries, accidental suicide?

Words: 4225

A/N: Hello I am alive! I’ve been wanting to get back into writing recently and I’ve  been disappointed by the lack of Andy x reader content on here so here’s my contribution. More marvel stuff is in the works starting with Thena from Eternals!

“It’s my life!”

“And you are my daughter! You will do this if you wish to remain a part of this family!”

“I told you I won’t marry him!”

A cold hand hits your left cheek.

You were fighting with your mother yet again as the two of you had constantly done for the past 23 years, which was way too long for you to still be living under her roof according to societal standards. While you were inclined to agree, being forced to marry a man in six weeks was not how you wanted to escape.

On paper, you supposed Nicholas Turner was the perfect match, basically everything you could ever ask for in a husband. His wealth certainly appealed to your mother, though he was also kind and considerate with a pleasant looking face others might find attractive.

Unlike those that had briefly tried to court you in the past, what really set Nicholas apart was that he seemed to truly care for you and respect your opinions. There certainly weren’t very many men like him in the 1950’s who didn’t immediately insult your intelligence or worth as a member of the lesser sex.

Not too far into your relationship was when you were finally forced to come to terms with a fear that had been looming over you since your teenage years. It had been easy to tell yourself you were still normal when all the suitors you rejected were immature little boys with stunted emotional development and only seemed to be interested in your body. You could tell yourself that no woman would ever settle for such disrespect in a lifelong partner.

However, you knew there was no denying that Nick was everything you should ever want in a man. You waited for those butterflies you had heard about from your friends to fill you whenever he asked to hold your hand or guide you by the arm for a stroll. But those bubbling feelings of love never came no matter how much you tried to force them. And if they couldn’t show up for Nick, you knew that no man could summon them at all.

The only person that had ever excited you in that way was another girl a few grades above you in school. She tutored you in math for two summers and lived just down the street. You had never felt so drawn to anyone else before.

“I have three brothers so it’s nice that we can spend some time together, just us girls,” she had said. You couldn’t agree more.

As your friendship grew, rumors about her older brother being a… sexual degenerate spread throughout the neighborhood and your mother quickly forbade you from ever speaking to anyone in her family again. The last time you’d heard about your friend was when her parents had thrown her brother out of the house and cut all contact with him.

No part of you wanted to believe that your friend had agreed with their actions but what if she had? What would she say if she were to ever find out about your true feelings for her? She would surely be just as disgusted as your mother.

“Yes. You. Will. You think this is your life? Well I gave it to you and I can just as easily take it away!”

You weren’t too certain about that after the strange events that took place the day before. Another argument with your mother turned violent and she started throwing some of her empty bottles at you. Although none of them hit their target, one flew through the back window and caused glass to shatter everywhere.

After cleaning up inside the house, you made your way outside to assess whatever damage certainly awaited you there. What you hadn’t been expecting to find was that one of the bottles hit a poor baby bunny not too far from the window. Falling on your knees in front of it, it pained you to watch as its small body twitched only a few times before ultimately turning as still as stone. The thought of leaving it there for other animals to pick on or carelessly throwing it in the trash didn’t seem right to you, so with a sigh you decided to find a shovel and dig it a small grave. It’s not like you were in a rush to face your mother so soon anyway.

The shed with the gardening tools hadn’t been organized since the warmer months. Coughing at the cloud of dust that immediately filled your lungs as the door squeaked open, you blindly staggered in the direction of the shovel, trying to feel for it with your hands, when your foot found a rake that was lying on the ground. The wooden pole smacked you dead in the middle of your face, forcing you to fly back like in one of those children’s cartoons that often played before the main films at the cinema. It sounded like a tornado was tearing through the shed.

All you could feel was pain spreading throughout your body. There was no doubt that your skull had cracked open as a gooey warmth began to soak your hair and pool down your neck. A sharp object also seemed to be lodged in your middle area and it quickly became difficult to breath or even remember what life was like before this agony.

You almost tried to call for help, hoping that your mother might at least be decent enough not to wish for your death, but something about that idea stopped you. What would she even be saving you from exactly? You knew you were dying as a strange numbness began to take over all your senses, yet a part of you seemed to be at peace with what was to come.

Lying about who you were for the rest of your life was worse than a death sentence in its own way. Maybe this could be your mercy if happiness was never attainable for someone like you. Maybe this was for the best.

There was absolute darkness and a sense of peace that seemed to stretch on forever. Suddenly, all of that shattered as oxygen forcefully filled your lungs. Something inexplicable had brought you back.

While your body still ached, a quick assessment helped you conclude that your injuries had healed almost miraculously. Your skull was awfully bloody but definitely smooth and in one piece. Slowly sitting up, you discovered that a long pair of garden shears is what had impaled your abdomen where you were certain a few of your vital organs must have been torn.

You were covered in both dried blood and newly formed skin with no idea how any of it was possible. The only thing you could think of doing was running back into the house to wash yourself off.

Darkness had covered the sky by then and you knew your mother must have been asleep by that point. Initially that made you feel relieved that you could dodge any questions she had until morning. However, as you scrubbed the leftover blood and sweat from your body, the fact that she must not have been concerned at all dawned on you. You had died out in the shed and where had she been?

“No, you don’t get to hurt me anymore!” You shook your head and stood your ground with a newfound sense of power only coming back from the dead could have given you. “You don’t get to control me like I’m your puppet! I’m not going to marry him or anyone else you try to push on me either. I’ve known this for a long time and I think you have too. But I can’t because I’m–”

“NO! No, I will not hear this nonsense again! I have things from the store I need to pick up and I expect all of this sudden change in attitude to be over when I get back. Or I will be beating you everyday until it’s your husband’s problem!”

Somehow her words managed to hurt you more than any physical attack could. You tried your best to hold in your tears as she gathered her purse and keys before slamming the front door behind her, but your eyes began stinging just as you retreated to your bedroom. This time, your instincts were successfully able to guide you on where to step.

You don’t know how long you stood there, disassociating and losing track of the time as you urged yourself not to cry.

A hand landed on your shoulder and caused an instinctive shudder to roll through your body. “Please, don’t!” You whimpered at the contact which you expected came from your mother.

“I’m not here to hurt you. But I need you to trust me.”

You turned and your eyes shot up. The speaker of the voice was unlike any other person you had ever seen. Her hair was cut extremely short, like the style Audrey Hepburn was known for, but with no makeup or bold lip color she appeared more boyish. She was also very tall for a woman, about as tall as some men you knew, though it didn’t scare you to stand beside her like it would with them. It was subtle, but sometimes you felt like they relied on their height advantage to make sure you were on a lower peg than them.

This woman was different with the way she assessed you with a lack of judgment. Something told you that she was worried about scaring you, not wanting to come off like she was sizing you up. You could see it in her eyes and god were they gorgeous. They were a mesmerizing shade that made you believe you were seeing the color for the very first time. You would gladly let the woman hypnotize you with those glowing pools of green.

“Who are you?” Your voice shook even though you could sense she didn’t wish to harm you.

She kept her voice calm and steady. “My name is Andromache of Scythia. But you can call me Andy.”

Andy? Andy. Hearing the name caused something to resurface in your mind. Not quite a song or a memory but something you had definitely heard recently. A man had been screaming that name as you felt him die.

“I’ve seen you before. I dreamed you were trying to save a man. A friend. Two other people were there as well. You were all surrounded. You were dying.”

“There are five of us now, including you, and we all do the same thing. We die and come back. And I know you probably have a lot of questions, which I promise I can answer, but you need to pack some clothes and come with me now.”

“Go with you? Where?”

You had been on a rollercoaster once as a child. It was a tall wooden one with a large loop that initially made you change your mind about riding it. That was before your mother informed you she had already bought your tickets and wasn’t about to let the money go to waste. The fear rose within your stomach with every inch the giant wooden coffin you rode in crept higher and higher into the domain of the clouds and birds. Every voice in your head screamed that you weren’t supposed to be here. A part of you was so terrified that you considered reaching for your mother’s hand. As if she would comfort you.

But then you finally made it to the top. All you could think about as you saw the sun setting on the horizon was how badly you wished you could chase it. And then you did. The ride dropped and your fears dissipated as laughter escaped from your body instead. For the first time ever, you could taste a sense of freedom.

That’s what it felt like when Andy reached for your chin and gently brushed the back of two of her other fingers against the cheek most recently marked by your mother. You weren’t entirely sure what the future looked like with her, yet you were eager to find out and explore all the possibilities opening up before you. No one had ever held you with such tenderness and care while also making you feel protected and safe. You watched as the woman’s eyes flickered from your cheek to your slightly parted lips before she withdrew her touch. It left you feeling empty.

“The woman that hurts you will be coming back any minute now,” she announces quickly before she starts darting around your room. She pulls out a suitcase from your closet and stares at you expectantly, like she needed you to move as if the house was on fire. “We need to leave before that happens.”

“My mother? She’s done terrible things but she’s still my mother. I can’t just leave without letting her know.”

“What’s your name?” Andy asks you. You tell her.

“Y/N, please listen to me,” she sets the suitcase down on your bed before taking your hands into hers. A part of your soul leaves your body right then and there. “Individuals like your mother have hurt you your entire life when you should have been protected. I’m so sorry no one stood up for you before. You didn’t deserve any of that. But now even more people that want to harm you are going to be on our trail as soon as they find out who and what you are. Now that I’ve found you, I can protect you. Me and the other three guys on our team. So please, come with me so that I can keep you safe.”

“Y/N?! Come help me!” Your mother’s shrill voice rings through the house.

“Pack quickly, I’ll hold her off,” Andy urgently reaches for something in her pocket which is when you realize she’s had a knife on her this whole time. Your eyes go wide.

“Wait! Please don’t hurt her! I’ll go with you but you can’t hurt her. That’s my only condition, I swear.”

You haven’t known her for long. You wish you could spend the next hundred years studying her face and getting to know everything there is to know about her. But somehow, you can still tell that something breaks inside her because of your pleading. She holds your gaze for the shortest eternity before nodding back at you.

“Okay,” she promises. You can tell she’s going to be true to her word. “But you have to follow my lead. When I say we need to leave, we leave.”

“Okay.”

You scramble to pack the most important things that come to your mind. A family picture of you, your mother, and your sister. The bracelet that your grandmother gave you. Your drawing notepad. It’s not too difficult to decide what clothes you bring as you have no real attachment to any specific pieces.

Echoes of your mother marching down the hall cause you to freeze up instantly. There’s one last thing you need to grab and of course it has to be in the trickiest place to get to.

“There’s a box of letters under the rug and the floorboard right here. Can you please get it? I’ll talk to her.” Andy nods before you dart out a small crack in your door and quickly close it behind you. It brings you face to face with your warden and the only obstacle that stands in your way of escape.

“What are you doing in there? I expect you to help me bring in my bags from the car. Are you going deaf or do I need to slap some more sense into you?”

“I’m leaving,” you manage to blurt out before fear stops you from changing your mind.

“You’re what?”

“I’m leaving. I’m not marrying Nicholas. I can’t and I won’t.”

“This again? How much longer will you insist on acting like a petulant child? I demand you stop this nonsense at once!”

“No. I’m leaving and you won’t get to control my life anymore.”

A look that you can only describe as amused appears on the woman’s face as she gives you a scoff. “Oh really? And where do you think you’ll go with no car or money to your name? I know you’re nervous about the wedding but-”

“I will never marry him or any other man either!” This was the first time you had ever raised your voice this loud and it was having quite the effect on both of you. The woman in front of you was completely stunned at your change in demeanor, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“I’m not like you! And I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. For so long, I’ve tried to feel the way I know I’m supposed to feel about boys but I simply can’t. And I think a part of me has always known that I’m-”

The swift sound of a crack silences you, though you don’t exactly register the pain straight away like normal. You bring a finger to your lower lip and it comes black with a droplet of blood. A second later, you touch the same spot and it’s completely healed.

“Silence! You’ll shut your mouth right this instant if you know what’s good for you. These ideas of… of perverse behavior aren’t you. You’re obviously ill and need to see a doctor immediately.”

“No mother, I-” You’re interrupted once again, although this time as your bedroom door swings open you aren’t scared of being struck or hurt. Andy’s presence alone means you are protected.

“Your items are secure. We need to leave now,” she takes a firm hold of your waist and pulls you closer to her body. From the threatening look she’s throwing at your mother you can tell that your presence is the only thing keeping the much taller and stronger woman from breaking out into a fight. Although, calling it that felt entirely wrong as it implied your mother would be able to stand a chance at winning.

“Excuse me?” The older woman spat like she had nearly swallowed a fly. “Who is-... Who do you think you are and how dare you come into my house!”

“Lady, all you need to know is that I’m the one that’s going to be doing what you’ve failed to do and actually protect your daughter from now on. Unless you want this to get violent, I would suggest stepping out of our way.”

No one had ever spoken to your mother that way and had anyone but Andy been foolish enough to yell at her,  you would be worrying for their safety. But even after five minutes of knowing her, it was clear that Andy wasn’t easily swayed by a few empty threats.

“I–... Oh, now I understand everything completely. You must be the one that has corrupted my daughter with these wicked thoughts! Y/N, you can’t possibly believe this… this stranger intends to do anything but manipulate you! Whatever feelings you think you may have for her are wrong and can be corrected. I don’t want you to end up like this disgusting degenerate!”

“Don’t you dare call her that!” Your anger spikes hearing the venom in her words. Andy may or may not be immune to them but that doesn’t mean you can’t be offended on her behalf. “She actually respects me and treats me like a human being!”

“So what? Your plan is to run away together and go where? Do what? You are nothing without me and you know it! Since you were born-”

An involuntary scream leaves your body as the taller woman moves like a flash of light. Before she can even process anything, your mother falls to the floor into an unconscious slump at your feet.

“Oh my God.” It seems almost impossible to tear your eyes away from the sight before you. You’ve never seen someone so… still. Then it dawns on you that she might be…

“She’s just unconscious,” Andy cups your face in her hands and you’re forced to look at her, ”I promise. She’ll be fine but we have to go now.”

Nodding, the two of you set off like there’s still someone on your trail. For a few seconds you’re able to look back at your mother one last time. The woman that gave birth to you. Raised you. Hit you. Broke you. She’ll never be able to hurt you again.

You breathe a barely audible “goodbye” to her, wondering where you’ll be by the time she wakes up. There’s the tiniest twinge of guilt at the thought of her actually missing you when she does, yet with every step you make towards your new future you yearn to speed up.

Andy guides you straight to the front door and outside into the rain. The two of you don’t stop until you reach a car around the corner that she unlocks for you. Your body is cold and numb, which the other woman immediately notices and she tries to drape your body with a thin blanket from the backseat after she starts the engine. You doubted that this car had any heating but couldn’t care too much about that.

“Thank you,” you’re able to mutter. “I’m sorry she… about those things she said.”

“Y/N, you have nothing to apologize for. You are in no way responsible for her actions.”

You could get used to hearing Andy say your name like that. She had a way of saying it that reminded you how it was your very own. How you were your own person.

“No, I do, Andy. At least let me say this for my own peace. You got dragged into something that should have stayed between us and she made some wrongful assumptions about you. You are completely right to feel offended or upset with me. And now that you know that I’m… Well, it seems you know more about me than almost anyone else. What I mean to say is that I understand if you’re disgusted by me.”

Much to your surprise, the brunette calmy pulled the car over to stop on the side of the road so that she could better face you. Fear that she might ask you to get out flickered in your heart for a second, but then she carefully took your hand into her own, holding it so tenderly.

“Y/N, everything that I said in there still stands. I care about you and I want to protect you. And for the record, not that anyone else’s opinion but your own matters, I see nothing wrong with you. You love the way you love, that’s nothing to be ashamed about. You deserve all the happiness the world can give you, which is what I’m willing to fight for.”

The buildup of emotions from the past 24 hours combined with the softness in her words is enough to strip you of your very last defenses. Your vision blurs, though the slight stinging in your eyes is admittedly therapeutic. Andy, however, only grows more concerned for you based on the look on her face.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you promise her and crack a smile. “It’s just strange to have someone that cares about me. The real me, I mean. There must be some way I can repay you for everything.”

She analyzed you with such curiosity that it’s impossible to tell what sort of thoughts are running through her head. Her other hand slowly moves to move a stray hair from your face. You doubt she meant for the contact to feel so intimate, yet you relish in the tiny sprinkles of touch she gives you.

Andy releases a deep sigh. “You don’t have to repay me for anything. We’re a team now and that means we take care of each other.”

Of course you had forgotten there was a team, meaning there were more of you she must have been referencing aside from yourself. It felt stupid to think she could have felt differently about you after knowing each other for less than a day. And what were the chances she would even see you in that way?

“Right,” you struggle to wipe the tears from your face. “I guess I should learn about the others then. When will we be introduced?”

“Soon, I promise.” Andy goes to restart the car and you notice her chuckle as she begins to speed up to get back on the road. “I think you’ll really like them, actually. We all have a lot in common so there’s no chance they won’t immediately like you like I do.”

You swear that you almost died for a second time from a heart attack.

“You mean besides being able to come back from the dead?” You tried to play it cool, hoping she wouldn’t notice how nervous you suddenly were.

“Actually, yes. It’s about a three hour drive from here so you can get some sleep if you want. I know you must be exhausted.”

You can’t really protest when a yawn immediately escapes after the mere mention of a nap. So you drift away, driving off toward your new life, with Andy’s hand safely cradling yours.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 2: Ethical human contact

When the woman stands behind Harold, peering over his shoulder from the inside of the camper, she freezes too.

I find myself doing the transfixion dance, of course. It’s part of keeping them still and compliant with my instinctual wishes to kill and eat them. But, I don’t actually want to do that, and my alternative urge is to flee. Which I also don’t want to do.

Instead, I visualize the outcome I want and, while focusing on Harold’s eyes, I settle myself down into a loaf, tucking claws underneath me, and folding my wings up tight. And then, ever so slowly, I do a cat smile, closing my eyes gradually and relaxing my frame.

And, just as I’d hoped, it’s the woman’s eye contact that is broken first, and she says, somewhat shakily but not truly stirred, “Harold, put that damn thing away! You’ll shoot your fellow camper!”

Through heavily hooded lids, I see him lower the gun slowly and blink at me. I’m obviously not a threat, after all. At which point, I turn my head to the side so that I’m looking at him with only one eye, a prey expression. Very much not a threat.

He tentatively steps down and out of the doorway of the camper, letting his gun drop fully to a one handed grip aimed down, while he steadies himself on the door with his other hand. And then he says, “I could swear I heard it talk, Ginnie.”

Ginnie slaps him lightly on the back of his head, and says, “Of course she can talk, Harold! Don’t you know the girl dragons can talk?”

I have no idea where she heard that. That’s not remotely true. From a certain, bioessentialist perspective, we’re probably all girl dragons (except we’ve got the genders, if Joel and I are indications), and I’m the only one I know that can imitate words, so far. And I can’t even reliably imitate the ones I want when I’m flustered.

But I can talk with AAC, if I have that. Which I don’t.

I turn my head the other way, and tilt it to the side, as an inquisitive expression about her statement, but that also fortuitously causes my radio tag to swing from its piercing through my horn.

“Land’s end!” Ginnie exclaims, stepping down from the camper. “Who did that to you? Why –” and as she gets closer to me she apparently gets a better look at me, because she exclaims, “Oh! It’s you!” She points at me and turns to her husband, “Harold, that’s Meghan! From Fairport! We’ve only been staring at her photos all day! She’s talked to the Mayor!” Turning back to me, she demands, “What in Heaven’s name are you doing all the way out here?”

How the heck do I answer that? The best phrase I can come up with, pieced together in two different voices, one of an AI generated posh British lady that I consider my voice now, and the other being Caleb, with enough of a pause between the two words to make it more confusing, is, “No. Shit.”

Then, to emphasize what I care about, I use my left wing claw to scratch at the radio tag in hopefully obvious irritation and impatience.

“Hold on,” Harold says. “I’ll get that off of you. That’s not standard, in any case.” His gruff, nasally voice fades and is interrupted by heavier breathing as he climbs back into the camper, but he keeps talking, “I wager the government did that to you, didn’t they? That’s no Green Peace collar or whatever. And drilling through your horn like that. That’s not ecological. Can’t have that. I think we can patch that with Bondo, which I definitely have!”

Ginnie smiles as he’s doing this.

—

The man has industrial grade bolt cutters, Bondo, and a metal grout spatula in that camper.

And they agree to let me sleep on the roof.

They also offer me food that I don’t need to eat.

And then, as I’m having trouble falling asleep, I overhear them arguing with each other about both Presidential Candidates and how they did during the debate, and how they won’t vote for either of them, and I feel conflicted.

Not that I blame anybody for being jaded and cynical about both parties. Just that, in this case, the debate was about the issue of us dragons, and the Candidates came down squarely on either side of it. And I don’t like what Harold and Ginnie’s argument implied about what they think should be done with me.

They’ve treated me with more hospitality than I expected from anybody. Once the gun was put away.

But, at the same time, they’ve forgotten that I’m legally a citizen, and they don’t seem to care about whatever my rights are.

They talk about us dragons like we’re animals that need to be respected and protected, but also not exactly people.

It’s unsettling.

At home, in and around my coffee shop, I’m a person. Because I’m a person.

These two may be from Fairport, or the neighboring city of Jam, and I’m wagering they’re either basic boomer liberals or recently-ex-conservatives, but they’re not my people.

—

I’m awoken in twilight by the whining scream and shuddering thud of that fucking helicopter flying overhead, and I don’t feel all that loyal to Harold and Ginny such that I want to bother saying goodbye in a way that I can’t even articulate.

I’m pretty sure the camper rocks and shakes as I leap off of it to take to the air after that chopper.

It’s fast, and I’m not as fast, but I can definitely follow it. And I know it’s gotta be landing for more than a few minutes temporarily, because it’s headed right back out where I came from, and it’s not circling me.

It’s not tracking me, especially as I dropped the tracker into the lake. It’s probably got another Fairport dragon tucked away in its hold, tranqued and tagged, and headed for release into the wild. Such as the wild exists anymore.

Getting any kind of altitude without the sun up is such a drag and a chore. But I’ve got a gizzard working on an owl now, which it’s been doing all night, and I don’t feel all that weak and hungry. A little sluggish, at first, but my body gets the idea as I push it.

I end up having to weave between mountains for a bit, before I’m high enough to go over the passes, and then the peaks. And I almost lose track of the helicopter.

But once I’m high enough, its running lights catch my eyes and I zero in on it.

In the light of the rising sun, it’s setting down on the same mountain where it deposited me the night before. They doubtlessly know I’m not there anymore, and have decided it’s the easiest place for them to land.

And as I work my way closer and closer, I can see them, in the distance, dragging a large bundle from inside the machine as its blades are winding down to a slow spin and then stop.

I’m right.

They’re disposing of another dragon.

It’s literally legally kidnapping. They are choosing kidnapping over murder, for some reason, maybe because they think they can get away with it. But it is kidnapping.

And I wonder if the tracking is to make it look more legitimate somehow. But also, it’s definitely to know where we are and to make sure we’re still out here for as long as the trackers work.

My long range eyesight is really sharp, but even now I can’t really make out the details of who they’ve got trussed up. But I’m convinced I’m seeing Joel. A.K.A. Whitman. My nemesis. Whom I have a truce with, and to whom I conceded two thirds of my territory back home.

If it is indeed Thursday morning, as I believe was confirmed by an offhand comment by Ginnie last night, then Joel has had that territory for two whole days. And now he’s going to be stuck out here, with me.

I’m more angry for him than worried about what he thinks of me right now. And I decide right there and then that I’m not letting the chopper take to the air. I’m going to render it unflightworthy.

Because if I let that thing go back to Fairport, it’s just going to come out here with another dragon, and another, and another, and another, tearing people like me away from their homes and their families. And not only is that not right, but it’s undoing all the work I’ve spent the last week building myself.

Joel and I could be networking with other dragons online right now, developing stronger truces and agreements, and coordinating to turn around and help our humans achieve what they want to achieve, whatever that might be, somehow.

But no, we’ve got some trumped up, pseudo-liberal, eco-performative land owning billionaire Daniel Säure, I think, using one of his companies to “humanely” purge Independant County of its dragons.

And if I let them take another dragon, it might be Astraia, who can’t fly. Getting her back home will be hard.

I’m idly wondering how they plan on attaching Joel’s radio tag to him as I dive toward the helicopter. I should probably be thinking about how I’m going to disable the machine, but I think I’m going to start by relying on my fire.

After hitting Joel with it twice, I think I’ve stopped using it directly on living beings. Even though I have to wait quite a while before I can use it again. It’s my wave motion gun. I have to be careful and responsible with it, lest I do the unconscionable or also leave myself too vulnerable.

It’s a terrible burden. A terrible napalm burden.

It’s not like I’m actually as powerful as Godzilla, or anything like that. These things scale both up and down.

Down, mostly, in my case.

But I’m thinking that the complex workings of the swash plate and nearby air intakes are vulnerable to liquid fire. So, if I can belch up a whole stream of it to all land right there, that should make it unsafe or even impossible for the machine to take off.

The trick is to pull up fast enough to prevent myself from slamming into the helicopter myself.

Which.

Nope.

I was thinking too much about Joel’s radio tracker to time it right, and the morning air is still too cold to provide a useful thermal on the shadowy side of the mountain.

I at least manage to extend my feet and swerve enough to make a humorous attempt at landing on a rotor blade. Which is a great way to disable a helicopter!

Rifles get fired in my direction as I crash to the ground clutching my groaning and shrieking helicopter part, but the tranq darts hit the chopper and shatter instead. Fired in desperation, they went wide, or flew through a spot I’d already left.

I pull my wings in tight and hit the ground, rolling like a tipped cow and letting go of my newest prized possession. My tail whips and lashes, and I’m climbing to my feet injured far, far less than I expected to be.

Joel did something like this when he crashed through the brick outer wall of my apartment to attack me a week and a half ago.

We dragons are not quite normal. It’s like we operate by movie physics or something.

We’re still fairly vulnerable to each other, though. I have stitches from when a dragon I nicknamed Waits scraped my left shoulder mid flight with their beak. And Joel has burns along his back and all over his mouth and face from the two times when he got too close to my biggest front hole.

A dragon named Astraia has some really gnarly gashes on her shoulders from a dragon I nicknamed Loreena, and I haven’t seen Loreena yet, but I’m sure they’re hurting pretty bad, too.

We can also be pierced by tranq darts, and I’m guessing that bullets penetrate our hides pretty readily, too. Traditionally, mythologically, most dragons don’t do all that well against pointy things.

But, blunt impact? It definitely hurt a bit and rattled me, but I feel like a Super Ball. I’ve bounced right back up, growling.

Humans scatter, but the other dragon remains limp. It’s Joel all right. He’s probably still very drugged.

He doesn’t look quite as burned as I expected.

I’ll consider that later.

Glancing around, I take stock.

There’s a definite high ground and low ground here, a slope to the mountain with the helicopter parked on the most level place, and very sparse trees. But there’s no apparent military training nor space monk here to take advantage of the terrain. These people are truly panicked and scattered. Probably also despairing over their maimed whirly bird.

Guessing the dart rifles have to be loaded again before firing, I galumph a bit like a giant ferret over to Joel and grab the webbing that binds him and tear at it with claws and teeth as I barrel over him and tumble and roll and bound back up to run further away before turning around.

Mostly, I jostle him enough that he stirs.

My next move is to pick an agent that looks like they’re about to pull their gun up and fire at me, and charge them.

The way they panic just before I lock eye contact with them makes me think they’ve been warned about that, but that panic doesn’t save them from getting transfixed and then tackled.

Other guns fire.

My personal challenge is to not tear this person’s throat out and just keep running over them without puncturing them, either. I don’t think I’ve been hit by anything, but the possibility of it has me anxious enough that I’m having an even harder time reigning in my violent impulses.

If this was winter, I could probably look back and see blood in the snow, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything immediately lethal.

I turn and wheel at the others as they fumble to reload weapons, and I start to growl my challenge cry. I’ve already picked my next target.

That target freaks out so much that they drop their gun by accident, reaching after it briefly with both hands, but looking up at me to make sure I’m not about to eviscerate and eat them.

My low, infrasonic rumble rises steadily in pitch, hitting weird harmonics in things like rocks and bones that causes pebbles to vibrate and humans to blanche. And then, just as it can be heard, instead of continuing to my usual morning routine, I cut it off with a spoken word, “Stop.”

Everyone freezes.

It’s so gratifying to have their attention like this.

I stomp my foot, taking a step forward, and glance to the North. I know there’s a trail that way, because I saw it from the air. It might take them a couple of days to hike out of here, but if they can find water, they should be fine.

“Go,” I say. I wish I could make it forceful, but I only learned how to say it like an emotionless computer illegally imitating Angelina Joli’s voice.

It is enough, however.

These “Wildlife Management” agents are clearly rattled by their helicopter being disabled by a plummeting fire breathing dragon who can endure a crash landing, dodge their darts, and talk, while also worrying the half trussed other dragon that they’d kidnapped who is now stirring. Being armed with rifles that need to be reloaded isn’t helping the situation. They weren’t equipped for my attack.

There are seven humans standing, and one bleeding one being helped to their feet. I watch carefully, tense, twitchy, as they collect themselves and move off in the direction I’d indicated. Still carrying their guns.

“Stop,” I say. “No. Okay.” That was uncharacteristically cogent of me. But how do I tell them to drop their weapons?

They’re watching me.

Ah, there’s two guns on the ground, dropped by the person I attacked and the one I threatened. I go over to one, pick it up and then drop it, looking at them as meaningfully as I can.

The two remaining armed individuals drop their guns, too, and back off.

“Peace,” I say. Then, “Go.”

They go.

While waiting for Joel to rouse himself, I gather the guns one by one, picking them up in my mouth, and delivering them to the burning helicopter, heaping them just inside the open sliding side hatch.

The agents can dare to come back to their chopper once we’ve left. I don’t care.

I do also quickly search the interior of the helicopter for anything like a phone or a tablet I could commandeer for my own purposes, but it’s as futile an effort as I suspected it would be. I just have to try in order to know I haven’t passed up the chance. I pause at the radio, wondering if I could use it to contact anyone meaningful to me, but I can’t think of how.

Besides, if we can get Joel some food, we can probably both fly out of here just fine. I think. I found and got to Ross lake in less than a day. We can follow a road out, or the river, if Joel can’t make it over the mountains like I can.

I decide to leave the radio and battery functional, so that the people I’m going to leave stranded here can call for help. It’s probably a bad idea, because they could also let whomever is in charge of them know that I’ve freed Joel and am on the rampage. But, while they might not have ethics that I like, I do. I really do. I’m trying to, at least.

But I fucking wreck everything else I can about the chopper, even slashing its tires. In the process, I learn just what I can bite through with my jaws. It’s pretty impressive.

When I’m done, there are no rotor blades left operable and any cable I can reach is severed. Panels and bits are strewn all over the mountain side.

[aphrodieties]

https://www.tumblr.com/aphrodieties/733813072220864512/hi-sorry-to-bother-you-but-im-having-some

Hi sweetie! I’m the anon from the question I linked above. Thank you so much for your answer! Please don’t be sorry for replying late, it should be me who appreciate your time and patience!

I’m sorry I didn’t get back earlier, I was so overwhelmed with the school and application stuff, and I also wanted to really understand and experience what you’ve said in that post.

I kinda get it now. I only need to fulfill myself with the feeling of academic success, and that’s all. I tried to fully live in imagination but I kinda cannot get over the need to revise the transcript physically. I’m afraid this transcript will follow me forever physically. Ever since I got my transcript, I refused to believe it’s actually happening to me, because it’s really terrifying, I may end up getting kicked out of school or no graduate school would accept me…I even haven’t told my parents about the grade thing, so whenever they asked me for the transcript I couldn’t give them, but I can’t fool them forever, that’s why I was so desperately to change my transcript physically.

I’m sorry if this sounds like trauma dumping. I didn’t intend to be this negative at the beginning, I got more and more anxious when I’m writing this. Please ignore me if you find it too negative sweetie, you don’t have the responsibility to answer this!

You are human and you have emotions—it’s completely fine to feel afraid. I get where you're coming from, and you're not trauma-dumping either. There are a few things that you must know; you are completely right to refuse to believe what's happening to you. You’ve got the hardest part down! Do not accept that which you do not want, and you do not want a terrible transcript so you're not gonna accept this one as written in stone. The next steps would be as follows; 3D indifference, taking care of business, and maintaining the state of the wish fulfilled.

I have said this in a previous ask and I feel a bit lazy about recycling responses but I cannot stress this enough; The 3D is not sentient. It has no meaning other than the meaning that you attach to it. Think about the meaning that you're currently attaching to the 3D right now—the meaning that you're attaching to this transcript, “This transcript will follow me forever physically,” “They’ll kick me out of school,” “No graduate school is going to accept me because of my transcript,” these are the meanings that you're currently attaching to the 3D. @etherealkissed88 has an amazing guide about practicing indifference. I've linked it here and I recommend that you read it.

I have mentioned this before too but you don't need to neglect the 3D. Tending to the 3D is not a betrayal of the Law of Assumption, and as long as you aren't attaching any meaning to what you do then you'll be fine. For example; I’m manifesting that I’m a billionaire, and I currently work a minimum-wage job, and I’m working-class. I still work long shifts, and I still pay my bills though I'm manifesting that I'm a billionaire. Why? Because it means nothing. Keeping my bills paid and working isn't a contradiction as long as that's all it is to me. If I attached any further meaning to working long shifts and paying my bills such as, "See! You're not a billionaire,” “You’re still struggling to make ends meet so you're not a billionaire,” etc…, then that would be a betrayal of my imagination and the Law Of Assumption—it would be contradictory to my state too! So, handle your business and do whatever you need to do to take care of the situation with your parents and transcript but don't attach any meaning to it.

The last thing I'm gonna say is—persist, continue to persist in the state of the wish-fulfilled. Persistence pays off, and maintaining the wish-fulfilled pays off. The 3D will reflect as long as you continue to do these things. Please, continue to maintain the wish-fulfilled.

[sebastianstangirl01]

Hi! I saw that requests are open and this one has been on my mind for a while.

With Bradley Bradshaw x daughter!reader, maybe elementary school age? where he surprises her at school after getting back from deployment.

Thanks!

Christmas Miracle

Title: Christmas Miracle

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x child!reader

Summary: Y/N thought her dad was going to miss Christmas, so imagine her surprise when he surprises her at her 2nd grade Christmas Program at school.

Warnings: none

Growing up Y/N has always loved Christmas.

Her and her dad would always go all out decorating the house like it came right from the North Pole, making Christmas candy, building gingerbread houses, drinking got coco, and singing Christmas Carols on the piano.

In all her 7 years of life Y/N and her dad Bradley spent Christmas together just themselves, but after reconnecting with Maverick he joined in on their Christmas last year with Penny and Amelia now they have become one big family.

But this year is different.

Bradley has been on a deployment for an emergency mission, air support. Y/N hasn’t seen her father in person since Thanksgiving, she’s been staying at their house with Maverick who moved in to take care of her.

He’s tried to keep the 7 year olds spirits up by doing everything they normally do during the Christmas Season, but it isn’t the same without her dad and Maverick knows that. But he refuses to let the little girl he loves wallow in self pity.

Maverick knew how much Y/N didn’t want to do the Christmas Program this year at her school, but he also knew that she would regret not being a part of her favorite time of year just because she is sad. And he knew that Bradley wanted Y/N to do her Christmas Play.

“Papaw Mav?” Y/N asked as she sat curled up into Maverick’s side as ‘Rudolph’ played on the TV

“Yeah sweetheart?” Maverick replied squeezing his arm around her shoulders

“Do I really have to do the Christmas Play tomorrow?” Y/N asked playing with her fingers making Maverick sigh

“Come here, peanut.” Maverick said grunting as he lifted Y/N onto his lap making her face him. “You know you love the Christmas play, why don’t you want to do it this year? I already promised your dad that I would video the whole thing for him.”

Y/N’s big blue eyes the spitting image of her grandmother, started to fill with tears and her bottom lip started to tremble. The sight was enough to break Mavericks heart in two.

“But daddy won’t be there. I don’t want to do it if daddy won’t be there. He always takes me out for ice cream after, and we sing Christmas songs. It’s not the same without him.” Y/N said and a big tear fell down her cheek, Maverick immediately wiping it away with his finger before kissing her on the forehead and pulling her against his chest.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. You know how much your dad wishes he could be here. He loves you so much and the last thing he wants is for you to be sad, especially on Christmas.” Maverick consoled her rubbing gentle circles on her tiny back. “How about this? We call your dad right after the play and he can see you all dressed up in your Christmas dress and then I’ll take you to get ice cream.”

“I guess that’s ok. Can we get daddy ice cream too?” Y/N asked making Maverick chuckle

“Honey I don’t think the ice cream would still be good but the time your dad got home. But when he does, we’ll all go get ice cream together. How does that sound?” Maverick asked letting you lean back on his lap and play with his dog tags.

“Good.” Y/N nodded and Maverick smiled gently rubbing her cheek making Y/N giggle

“There’s that rotten giggle I love so much! Let’s get you ready for bed, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Maverick said getting up keeping Y/N on his hip

The next day Y/N was sitting with her class on the floor of her school gymnasium, she was wearing a sparkly red dress with black tights and red buckled shoes. Penny had curled Y/N’s hair and pulled it into a half up half down style with a red and silver sparkly bow.

Maverick and Penny were sitting in the stands with Amelia, all of them smiling at how cute the kids all looked in their Christmas outfits. Maverick had his phone ready to record, but he wasn’t just recording Y/N’s play.

Early this morning Bradley had called and told him that he was going to be coming home, the mission was over and he would be back in time for the Christmas play but he wanted it to be a surprise for Y/N so Maverick hasn’t told her yet. Bradley had just texted Maverick to tell him that he made it to the school and was about to come in.

Y/N was sitting on the floor criss crossed playing with the skirt of her dress unaware of the principal approaching the microphone with a smile on her face.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming out to our 2022 Christmas Program! The students and staff have worked so hard to put on a good show for you all, to kick off the Christmas Season! Before we dismiss and you check your children out for Christmas Break, I would like to take a second to remember the men and women who cannot be here with their family members this Christmas because of their bravery in service of our Military.” The principal announced and everyone started to clap

Y/N clapped along with the rest of the gym but she could feel herself becoming more and more sad at the thought of her dad not being here with her.

“But I would like to recognize a special member of our military who has just landed back stateside and came here to surprise his daughter. Everyone please help me welcome back, Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw!” The principal announced making Y/N’s head snap up as everyone started cheering and clapping

She looked up at Maverick instinctively and he just smiled and pointed to the front of the gym. Y/N followed his gaze and saw her dad standing there with a teddy bear and a big smile on his face, still dressed in his flight suit.

“Daddy!” Y/N exclaimed as she got onto her feet and ran towards him as fast as her little legs would carry her. “Daddy!”

Bradley smiled and bent down scooping his little girl into his arms and spinning her around, Y/N buried her head into his neck and held onto him for dear life.

“Daddy, your home!” Y/N whimpered with happy tears falling down her cheeks

“I couldn’t miss Christmas with my favorite girl in the world! I love you so much.” Bradley smiled kissing her cheek

“I love you too daddy.” Y/N whispered into his neck

Taglist:

@daughterofthereaper02

@luckyladycreator2

@calpurniatypes

@littlebadariell

@qnfluvr

@raefoxiegirl

@maverick-wingman

@avada-kedrava-bitch

@army24--7

[fyodoro]

Heya, I have been summoned by the requests call! I also checked out your masterlist, and you don't have a single Mafuyu work?? That has to change!

Can I get a Mafuyu x shy florist reader, that likes gifting her flowers and explaining the meaning behind them, but they only ever get the courage to do that behind closed doors when no one else is around?? TYSM!!

-> 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Flowers were a big part of your life, so naturally you’ve come to understand each individual flowers meaning. However, you’ve never had the courage to explain it to others, until Mafuyu…

Genre) fluff! Tinge of angst if you squint though

Cw) mafuyu’s emptiness, reader is implied to be aware of it but it’s never explicitly stated by mafuyu, insecurities, another vague ending (my favorite type of endings frfr)

If you had to pick one thing that would be wherever you go, it’d be flowers. Nature was a big part of who you were, growing up with all different kinds of educational books on different types of plants, sceneries, and of course flowers. It wasn’t just a phase you had as a kid, it stuck with you for as long as you could remember.

Though, you wish you had the courage to share your knowledge.

It was a struggle getting through life while being too nervous to strike conversations or speaking up. You had moments here and there, but you still felt like a shadow. It was until a certain someone helped you out of your shell.

Mafuyu Asahina, one of the top students in the district. Everyone knew about her, she was perfect. Perfect looks, perfect grades, perfect all around. She was beloved by all your peers, who had gotten help form her at least once. You, however, never received her help. She was intimidating to you, even if she was a sweetheart. Someone that important near someone so unknown? What if it stained her reputation?

The first time you two talked, she initiated conversation. Seeing you struggle with the assignment in front of you caught her eye, why not help?

“So if you flip the equation like this…”

“Ah, I see it now… thank you, Asahina.”

She simply smiled at you, but didn’t move her seat. She stayed close next to you despite finishing helping you.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling something was… off. Off about Mafuyu. The way she smiled looked like it held 0 emotion, and the way her eyes lost any light left in them the moment she turned away. It was, well, weird.

“Say, (name), is this anything you like? Anything at all?”

The question was sudden, breaking the silence in a bold manner. But she seems genuine about the question, maybe she wants to get to know you better?

Someone wants to know you better..

“Actually… I like flowers a lot. I work part time at a florist place. There’s so many different kinds! And they all have different meanings and they can get really deep sometimes and-“

Ah, there it is. Maybe you said too much already.

“And?”

Mafuyu looked at you with curiosity, waiting for you to finish you’re ramble. Did she care enough to listen?

“And they’re all so beautiful..”

You didn’t know why you were so embarrassed to talk about you’re love for flowers. Whenever you rambled, even to your parents, you got embarrassed, like this was a silly hobby for a little kid. Despite all the reassurance, you couldn’t help it.

“I agree, flowers are quite pretty. A friend of mine also enjoys them a bit, specifically carnations.”

“Ah! Carnations are beautiful, with vast meanings depending on the color. While pink carnations are considered “lovely” and carry out the meaning of love, yellow carnations are the complete opposite. They resemble unhappiness and rejection. White carnations though..”

You’re voice died down, realizing you were rambling once again. But also, once again, Mafuyu didn’t avert her eyes.

And for once, you felt like someone was listening.

“What if you stopped by the flower shop later? It doesn’t have to be today. I can even let you pick out some carnations for that friend of yours!”

“Hm.. we can do today. Thank you, (Name). I’ll be looking forward to it.”

And with that, Mafuyu left the classroom. The conversation replayed in your mind over and over, something didn’t feel right…

Whether it was the weird feeling that brewed in your chest when you realized Mafuyu never looked away, or the hallow look in her eyes. Something didn’t seem right, but it’s too soon to pry.

But it wasn’t too soon to squeal about your next customer.

The longer your shift went on, the less hope you had Mafuyu would appear. After all, it was already late and the shop closes in just an hour. Would she have the time for all this anyway? Doubt flooded your mind, only thinking of all the harsh words said to you.

That’s right, you’re just some flower obsessed freak. Everyone thinks you go on dates with your ferns, not with real people. Maybe this was all just some-

“I’m sorry I got here so late. Archery club kept me longer than usual today.”

Mafuyu

“It’s all good! I thought you didn’t know where this was, I never did give clear directions…”

“I found it anyways, it’s the only flower shop around the area.”

“Right, I forget about that sometimes.”

Truth be told, customers weren’t so common. Of course there were the regulars you’ve chatted with here and there, but other customers aren’t frequent. You’d think business would be booming some other florist place if the only one around was this empty.

Silence fell over you two, the warm lights complimenting Mafuyu’s face. How could someone be so perfect with so many flaws?

“This flower is pretty, what’s it called?”

You examined the plant in her hand, recognizing it pretty fast. A pink camellia.

“That’s a camellia! The one you’re holding is pink, which resembles longing and pining. Camellias themselves mean love, all different kinds. White camellias are all about adoration, they’re something you’d give to someone beloved. Red camellias are a deeper kind of love, passion.”

For once, you didn’t feel embarrassed by your rambles. You actually felt proud. Mafuyu remained intrigued and even continued asking more questions.

“Are they associated with love because of their color variation?”

“I think so, most flower meanings are random. But camellias’ are consistent.”

“Are white camellias better to give to a friend? Or a whole other flower entirely?”

“White camellias are a perfect gift for a dear friend, but yellow roses are quite literally called friendship flowers.”

“Does it mean anything if I picked a pink camellia when I could have picked a white one?”

The first question you had to think about. That’s more of a statistics thing, right? She could have randomly picked any, red, white or pink. But perhaps, after today…

“Well, that’s for you to decide I suppose.”