#I don’t care if my aversion makes you uncomfortable

[laineystein]

My safta never trusted goyim. To the point that she straight up did not like them. And when she left Russia to live with us in America she practically did it kicking and screaming because she didn’t want to continue living in a place surrounded by so many goyim. She’d make comments and my brothers and I would all snicker because she’d say ridiculous things about how all of the goyim hated us and how they’d all sell us out if they could. It all seemed so extreme.

I’m not laughing anymore.

My safta was absolutely right. She’d seen the violence that comes from the indifference of goyim and she was merely warning us.

You all hate us and I trust none of you.

[street-smarts00]

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

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WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited. 

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you. 

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love. 

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically. 

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders. 

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope. 

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact. 

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs. 

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm. 

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind. 

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane. 

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk. 

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started. 

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk. 

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair. 

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it. 

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen. 

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face. 

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.” 

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.” 

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.” 

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked. 

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.” 

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive. 

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.” 

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships. 

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.” 

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.” 

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought. 

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him. 

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings. 

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name. 

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him. 

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to. 

~

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home. 

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.  

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night. 

“Hey,” you greeted. 

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door. 

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath. 

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“Huh?” 

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly. 

“Oh.” 

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips. 

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled. 

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was. 

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms. 

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head. 

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need. 

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache. 

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered. 

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck. 

“Do you wanna lie down?” 

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute 

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.” 

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend. 

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him. 

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …” 

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers. 

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had. 

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg. 

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm. 

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did. 

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms. 

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice. 

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you. 

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured. 

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold. 

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?” 

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.” 

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response. 

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze. 

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.  

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.” 

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank. 

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch. 

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.” 

“Yes you were.” 

“Y/N please,” he begged. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.” 

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it. 

“I was freaking out,” he blurted. 

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now. 

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable” 

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good. 

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?” 

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment. 

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

 Here we go. Flood gates. 

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ” 

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper. 

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence. 

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach. 

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss. 

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him. 

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears. 

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.” 

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased. 

“That too,” he chuckles. 

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,” 

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added. 

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh. 

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours. 

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Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

[blckbrrybasket]

Rafe with reader who stays away from hard drugs

People snorting cocaine at these parties always shocked you. It wasn’t so much that it was a hard drug, but more so the money that went into it. No drug was cheap that was for sure. Cocaine, though, was the drug for rich kids.

Being a pogue, you hadn’t tried it. You had no desire to. You saw what hard drugs did to your mom. Unlike coke, basically anyone with a spare room and a strong will could make meth out on the cut. At least your mom could. You didn’t mind seeing people do drugs, but you always held yourself back.

Rafe noticed it pretty easily. His first assumption was the price which is why he slyly told you one night that you could get a bump for free for being his. You still didn’t budge, politely declining and making an excuse. After some time Rafe dropped the subject becoming a bit more aware to your aversion to it.

Most people didn’t give a shit until Topper made a big deal about it.

“Yo..aren’t you gonna have any?” He sent you a inebriated smile and you resisted scrunching your nose up at him. “Nah, I’m good.” Rafe slid an arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Leave them alone Top, it’s good.” Topper rolled his eyes at Rafe’s automatically stern tone. “I was just asking, shit. If they want to be a pussy they can. Not my business.”

Topper shrugged with a smirk and turned back to the line in front of him. Your stomach dropped at the comment, Rafe’s eyes narrowing. “Yo, what the fuck?” “What, bro?” Topper shot back. The few seconds of their argument gave you enough time to leave Rafe’s lap and storm towards the door.

It was obvious that Rafe was following you. You acted like you couldn’t hear his voice calling after you in the crowd. His long legs made it easy for him to catch up to you though, hand sliding around your elbow to pull you towards him. “Babe.”

“It’s fine.” You started, already trying to cover up what happened. “No. No, it’s not. What’s going on? Talk to me.” Rafe was worried. His eyes were wide with unspoken fear that you’d be mad at him.

“It’s stupid.” You crossed your arms over your chest. Rafe shook his head, “Nothing bothering you is stupid. Please, talk to me.” Sighing, you dropped your arms and grabbed his hand to pull him outside.

He understood the need for privacy, but was surprised nonetheless. Finally after a minute the two of you stopped by the side of the yard, far enough away from prying eyes. At your groan Rafe’s eyebrows rose, unsure what to do.

You covered your face, sighing into your hands. “When you…” Your words were quiet and unsure before you started again. “When you do drugs, it’s fine. I mean…it isn’t for your body, but it’s fun. Every kook our age does drugs, but when my mom does it, it makes her a methhead.”

“The assumption isn’t wrong, but it’s different for us on the cut. The drugs our parents did ruined us.” Rafe’s eyes revealed his realization. You had never mentioned it, but he had never asked. He should have asked. He felt like such an asshole.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. Your eyes snapped up to him. Rafe rarely apologizes without being told the problem, but now it wasn’t his fault. “For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.” “No, I did. I put you in that situation. I put you around drugs…fuck.”

The way you looked at the coke he did made sense now, like you had a personal vendetta against the powder. How many times had you been uncomfortable while he dealed with you on his lap? “I’m sorry.” He reaffirmed, hands cupping your face. “I don’t care what bullshit you say, I put you in that..and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” was all you could think to whisper back to him. “It’s okay.” This time it was firmer, Rafe’s earlier expression of ease slowly making its way back onto his face. “Now let’s get out of here.”

“What?” You laughed in disbelief. Rafe shrugged, arms scooping you up to swing you over his shoulder, “Parties’ boring anyways.” You laughed, clutching onto his shoulders. “By the way, don’t hurt Topper too much.”

Rafe chuckled knowing you knew him too well. “Don’t know what you mean,” he lied.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: (dark lite) heir!jacaerys x afab servant!reader

cw: sweat/jace being a weirdo about it, dubcon, frottage, implied virginity loss, intentional use of minimal valyrian & i used a translator so don’t come for me, implications of jace intending to marry reader with or without their consent/reader thinking this is just sex but 💀, he didn’t say it but he would kill his family to make you queen, power imbalance (sorry y’all i just like it), wrote this at a vibrator’s pace (/j) so there are zero thoughts behind it

wc: 888 (✨🕯️)

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

“I am not certain about this, Jace…” You mumble, tugging at his sleeve so he’ll stop running towards his chambers. “I have to perform my duties in the kitchen, there is hardly time for this.”

Jacaerys Velaryon disarms you with a charming smile, too genuine and heartfelt to not return.

“No one will notice if I arrive at dinner a tad later than usual, there is no need to worry.”

The door is swiftly opened and shut in the blink of an eye. You find yourself gathered up in the prince’s arms and the swat to your bottom urges you to wrap your legs around his waist.

King’s Landing’s sweltering sun beats down on you from the window. Minuscule beads of sweat have already accumulated at your brow. Jacaerys hunches over you to lap them up as if he were a thirsty mutt, you can only wrinkle your nose in aversion.

“Perhaps we should allow ourselves time to get to know each other before we do this, my prince.” You attempt to convince him, upholding your mother’s belief that intimacy is to be between married folks only. It does not mean you shudder in repulsion at the thought of Jacaerys making love to you. Only that your shame will always best your lust in battle.

“Yet I feel as if I have already known you for a lifetime, issa rūklon (my flower).” He whispers, brushing a hand against the blossom he had tucked behind your ear. The pronunciation is not as confident as someone like his mother’s.

Innocent walks in the gardens with a prince were only a gateway to depravity, you suppose.

You breath hitches when his lips ghost along your collarbone. You would do well to remember that Jaceaery has the potential to be as much of a dragon as the rest of his strange kin.

Your trembling hands clutch at the prince’s bare shoulders. His clothes tossed aside with little care, all of his attention on you. To push him away or bring him closer… you are wracked with indecision.

“Shh, be calm. You are the safest you have ever been, in my arms and in my bed.” The constant repetition of possessiveness is heightened by the glint of gold in Jacaerys’s irises.

“Lift your hips for me, ābrazyrys (wife).” Your brow furrows at the unfamiliar pet name, but you pay it no mind.

Your flimsy dress glides down your body, the cheap strings tying it together are in tatters.

Jacaerys offers you no respite and instead brings both of your wrists together in one hand, pinning them to the bed over your head.

“I am still a maiden, my prince, I have never even kissed a man before.” You nervously say.

His adoring smile widens, “I know, it is the same reason I decline offers to visit the brothels. Our firsts were meant to be shared with each other.”

The soft glow of candlelight illuminates Jacaerys hovering over you, allowing the sexual tension to build. Your grip on his shoulders slackens and you weave your calloused fingers into his brown hair.

If only you knew how much it reminded Jacaerys of his mother’s wedding to Daemon, the looks they exchanged as they tied their souls together.

“We have all the time in the world.” He reassures you, despite the fact that it was obviously not true. “I’ll be gentle”.

You gasp as he cups your cheek with his free hand and gently drops his body weight onto you.

He seizes your lips in a bruising kiss that you would have previously thought him incapable of. The roughness of his tongue entangling with yours drives you to tighten your hold on his hair and pull it. Jacaerys moans at the infliction of pain and rubs his naked flesh against you. The friction of the slow movements are suddenly frustrating, you feel the oddest desire for him to move faster.

You whine in unison with him when you separate from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. He licks it away with a flick of his tongue as he eyes bore into yours.

“Does that feel good, ābrazyrys (wife)? Your cunt is becoming wetter by the second.” He laughs, not cruelly, and continues grinding against your body.

“Yes…. my prince…. it feels …. so, mmm- amazing.” You struggle to reply, he was not even inside you and yet here you were bearing a striking resemblance to an animal in heat.

The sweat that your bodies produce makes the rutting sloppy, you have to frequently regain your hold on Jacaerys. His cock glides over your cunt and you throw your head back on the pillows. Something wet and sticky is smearing all over your belly every time he ruts against you.

This goes on until your body tenses up, your eyes widen and it is as if your gut clenches. Foolishly, you tug at his hair again but he just mouths ‘Yes!’ with his eyes screwed shut tightly as he keeps grinding. Your cunt pulses and a mix of white and clear fluid erupts from it and drips down to greet Jacaerys’s balls. His pace stutters then he glances down at the sight.

“Gods…. you served me a great deal. It is surely delicious, but I do hope that you are ready for me to return the favor.”

[shadowqueenjude]

Purity culture is bad, but can we stop this ridiculous concept of virginity too, please? Sex is a choice, right? So people should never be shamed for choosing whether or not to have sex. We’re always talking about people being shamed for having sex, but what about people who don’t? When I was younger, I always had white girls trying to “corrupt” me because they saw me as this innocent brown girl who they wanted to hypersexualize. This one girl showed me her hickeys, another girl showed me a dildo on Amazon. There are so many others but I digress. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my life. I was 15 and I was already being peer pressured to have sex.

SJM is reinforcing this concept of virginity and it’s really downgrading to girls who care for an emotional connection when they have sex as if it’s a fucking bad thing. You are trusting someone with your body, the most intimate parts of you. It is not bad to want the person touching you to be someone you care about, but SJM’s aversion to virginity sex scenes is making it seem like this is something to be ashamed of. She hypersexualized Nesta, she made it a point that Elain had premarital sex with Graysen and was willing to engage Azriel, a man she barely knows, sexually. I am only glad she didn’t sabotage Elide’s character by making her fuck random guys before ending up with Lorcan.

[munsonsmixtapes]

I hear you're in need of ideas ! I won't be offended if you're not inspired by my ask , we love creative choice here !! So I have a bit of an aversion to the smell of weed because ✨ trauma ✨ I have nothing against it or anything. But I was thinking maybe just something a little angsty with a happy ending about how Eddie would react and deal with that as your boyfriend. Lots of love 💕

This is such an interesting request, so I am more than happy to fulfill it!

Eddie x gender neutral!reader

cw: mention of weed, hurt/comfort

Not proofread!

As soon as you started dating Eddie, you were quick to let him know about your aversion to the smell of weed. With him smoking it all of the time and always having it on hand because he sold the stuff, you felt like it was important for him to know. Just like always, he was so accommodating, making sure to shower after he smoked or made a deal. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal but you weren’t so sure.

And to Eddie, it really wasn’t a big deal. He would do whatever he could to make you happy and that included a little shower before coming to see you after he handled the stuff. He really didn’t mind and an extra shower here and there really didn’t hurt.

But despite his reassurance, you still felt bad. That was one of the few things that calmed him down and now he had to take a few extra steps to make sure he didn’t smell like the stuff before he could come see you. You didn’t think it was fair.

One night after his shower, Eddie snuck into your room, smelling like nothing but the shampoo you had bought him, his hair still damp, signifying that he hadn’t showered that long ago. He pushed you down onto your bed eagerly and threw himself on top of you before pressing kisses to your lips, but you weren’t in the mood for once.

You turned your head and he leaned up, turning your face back to him so he could see it. He wanted to know what was wrong. You had never looked so uncomfortable around him. Eddie was always your safe space. The person you could come to with anything about now you were looking at him with a pained expression that he had never seen before.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head and normally, Eddie would have left it at that, but this was clearly bothering you so he had to get to the bottom of it.

“You can tell me. Whatever it is, I won’t be mad.”

“Promise?” You put your pinky out.

“Promise,” he replied with a nod and hooked his pinky around yours before giving it a shake.

“Well, I just-I feel really bad that you have to shower all the time after smoking or doing a deal. It’s just an extra step you shouldn’t have to take and I feel awful that you keep having to do it for me.” Your words came out so fast that Eddie almost didn’t understand what you were saying.

“I mean, I know you do it because you care about me, but I feel like I’m being selfish. What if-what if we just took a break?” That was not at all where he thought the conversation was going to go and there was no way that he was letting you break up with him. The only way the two of you would be apart was if one of you passed away. He was never letting you go as long as he lived.

“Woah,” he rested his hands on your shoulders. “Let’s not take drastic measures, hon. We’re not taking a break, okay? I know you feel guilty, but you don’t have to, baby. I really don’t mind showering before I come see you. I like using that nice shampoo you got me and like to make my hair look nice before I come and see my girl,” he smiled. “You’re not being selfish at all. I like doing stuff for you and making sure that you’re taken care of. And if that means taking a few extra showers every week, then so be it. I love you and I want to be with you for as long as I can.”

“You love me?” Your face lit up at the words. He had never said them to you before and now you knew that you were just being silly. Of course he wasn’t mad at you. Eddie couldn’t have been mad at you if he tried.

“So damn much,” he sighed.

“I love you too.”

“Now give me some sugar, sugar. Daddy needs a kiss.” He puckered his lips and you just shoved him away.

“Ew, not if you keep calling yourself that,” you laughed but gave him a kiss anyway, so grateful to have him in your life. Someone who would love you unconditionally even if you were acting irrationally. Someone who would love you until his very last breath.

[keys-hellscape-1020]

Hobie With Autistic!Reader

A/N: I really wanted to try and make this a one-shot but I just couldn’t think of a good prompt so I resigned myself to headcannons. If you have a good prompt with an autistic reader though send it my way I would love to write it!! @juvenile-arm here u go hun <3 hope it’s to your liking! Sorry it took so long.

Hobie Brown x Autistic!gn!Reader

Summary: How Hobie Brown would act with an Autistic significant other.

Content: slight food aversion, mentions of overstimulation, mentions of meltdown, fluff

————

To begin, there is absolutely no feeling lesser because you’re not “normal”. That kind of thinking goes against everything Hobie believes in. You might not be “typical” but he isn’t either and he thinks it great that you’re not. It’s literally ingrained in you to fight the system and he loves that about you, even when you don’t.

You don’t have to worry about subtle social cues with Hobie, he’s the type to always say exactly what he means in plain language. Which is a blessing and a curse, but you appreciate it either way.

He’ll also really want you to meet his friends, but he understands that the pub might be to loud and crowded for your senses + having to meet new people and be social on top of that.

He’ll suggest that you all go to a park instead, his friends will probably question him briefly, as he not really the “let’s go have a picnic in a park” kind of person but once he explains that he wants you to meet them and you don’t like crowded spaces they’ll agree with no hesitation.

I have no doubt in my mind that Hobie’s friends are punk, or at least share his values. They want to meet the person who has their friend so smitten but not if that means you’ll be uncomfortable. Time for a bunch of punks to have a picnic in a park.

On the topic of his friends, he’ll absolutely want you to come to one of his performances, but he also doesn’t want you to get overstimulated. His solution is to have you sit on the side of the stage (where no one can see you) so you can still hear and see his performance but without having to be so crowded. He’ll also get you a pair of noise-canceling headphones for if the sound gets to much.

On a completely different note, food. I for one tend to hyper-fixate on foods super bad and that’s all I want to eat. Hobie won’t even question that, he’ll just ask if you want him to pick it up while he’s at the store. He’ll also work around any textures/flavors you might not like. When a recipe calls for an ingredient you don’t like but he does he’ll just pour your portion into a separate pan and keep cooking. It doesn’t bother him, so long as you wash the dishes.

On the subject of touch, if you say you don’t want to be touched right now he might pout for a moment but that will be all. He’ll bounce right back and just continue with his plans. His first love language is Physical touch but quality time is a close second and he’ll make do until you’re okay being touched again.

If you’re the type where overstimulation sneaks up on you Hobie will take to carrying a pair of earplugs, so if you start to have a meltdown you can put them in while he works on getting you both out of the environment that overstimulated you.

If you do end up getting overstimulated and having a meltdown he will get you to a quite, calm space as quickly as possible. Once there he’ll just sit with you, but he’s not the type to stare at you while you try to calm down (idk about y’all but I’ve had people do that). He’ll probably ask you before-hand what he can do that helps you. Whatever it is he’ll do his best to make it happen. He’ll probably hum a song under his breath, a gentle soft one, maybe a lullaby his mom used to sing to him when he was younger.

All in all this man doesn’t treat you like you’re different, these are things that he would do for any one he cares about if they need him to. A true provider through-and-through, and always there for you.

[sonicexelle-junkary]

hi! sorry if this is a strange question, but are you okay with people giving you fanart that has detailed gore/body horror? ive noticed that you keep the gore in your art pretty simple, and i cant tell if that's because of an aversion to anything more violent or if it's just part of your art style. i love your aus and you're a big inspiration for me so i really dont want to make any fanart that could make you uncomfortable!!

(also just want to note that the fanart i have in mind wont be that gory, its really just the amount of detail i want to put into it i was worried about)

i hope you have a great day!! take care :)

Oh I’m alright with any sort of fan content as long as it’s not overly sexual, just because I don’t like that kind of stuff. I like gore of pretty much any variety as long as it’s not suppose to be something like torture-porn or IRL animals being abused.

My style is fairly simple, so drawing more detailed things like gore can come off as a bit ‘light’.

[mangoisms]

i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute)

━ chapter four: even if it hurts | read chapter three

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.3k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

The next morning, you wake up in your own bed. You have no recollection of getting yourself here on your own, only the faint fuzzy memory of being carried and the sharp, fragrant scent of eucalyptus. 

With that, perhaps you should not be surprised at the knock on your door at seven-thirty on dot, where you find Tim waiting. 

Your body hurts worse today than it did yesterday and the extra strength Tylenol you took has not yet kicked in. Mostly, you’re still tired and achy, eyelids feeling heavier than usual, your clothes oddly restrictive with your slacks stretched a little uncomfortably over the gauze on your knee and thigh, then your forearm as well, as you knew wearing anything other than a long-sleeve would raise questions you are not mentally prepared to answer. 

Suffice to say, you are not in a particularly good mood.

Which is why —

“What are you doing here.”

Tim looks up from his phone. He’s… in a suit? Charcoal grey, with a burgundy red button-up underneath. His dark hair has been tamed for the most part, parts of it gelled back, with some hanging over his forehead as usual. 

It’s a version of him you aren’t that acquainted with but he still looks… heartbreakingly gorgeous. 

“I’m giving you a ride to school,” he says, then offers you a thermos and lunch bag. “And breakfast.”

“I don’t need a ride,” you say, instead of acknowledging that. “I told you yesterday, Tim. What are you even doing up this early?”

“Board meeting,” he responds. “So, I’m already passing by the school on my way to the tower.”

“I can get to school just fine on my own.”

“Can I come in?”

Wordlessly, you step aside. 

He steps in and sets the thermos and lunch bag aside, but doesn’t take off the shiny dress shoes. Seriously, you think you can see your reflection in the shine. God, he looks really good. This sucks. 

“I was thinking about it for a while,” he says, gazing steadily at you. 

Since you quite literally already have your shoes on and you keep the area in which shoes are allowed on relatively small, he’s only a foot away from you, allowing you to glimpse a faint scar under his jaw that one could not see unless they were this close, long, dark lashes that frame blue eyes, irises flecked with silver, an emotion you don’t think you’ve seen on him until now, one that makes your heart stutter in your chest and warmth flood your face. And… wait….

“I wanted to leave it alone,” he continues, distracting you. 

Your eyebrows furrow at his words. Leave what alone?

“Because I wasn’t sure,” he goes on. “And if I wasn’t sure, then I wasn’t going to say anything but… I think it’s worth it to try.”

“You’re being vague, Tim,” you say, a little annoyed at the fact. “What are you talking about?”

“You,” he responds. “And what you think of me.”

Something about that makes your insides freeze. The sudden bout of nerves confuses you but it’s not a moment to think about why that may be. 

“Meaning?”

“You think you’re burdening me, with everything that happened last night.”

One part of you relaxes, while the other just stiffens further. 

“I thought,” he pauses, something in your chest crumpling at the uncertainty on his face, an emotion you’ve never seen, at least not directed at you. It hurts more than you thought it would. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” you say immediately. “We are.”

“Okay,” he says, looking steadier now. “So, then, why won’t you let me take care of you?”

“I can take care of myself,” you respond reflexively.

“I know that. But just because you can doesn’t mean that you have to do it alone. I… Look, I’m not trying to coddle you. It’s just that you seemed averse to anything that had me worrying about you, about me taking care of you when you had just been through something traumatic. You say we’re friends and friends take care of each other, don’t they? So, why won’t you let me?”

Oh. Oh.

“I know what things are like with your family,” he adds, voice gentler. “And I know you must’ve had to prove to them that you could handle living here, that you could take care of yourself. That you’re independent. But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean that you have to do it on your own all the time, not if I’m here, too.”

You feel overexposed, like a bad sunburn, like all your layers have just been peeled away and now the real you, still hurt, still tired, still bleeding from last night, from the years of fielding your parents’ repeated urges to move back home, you are exposed. So terribly seen. 

And you can’t quite acknowledge it, that he is right and you know it, too, you know that’s why things were so weird for you, because up until now, you were chronically lonely, on your own so you had to pick up the slack because you knew no one else was there to do it. 

(But he’s here. But Tim is here and he wants to do it. Why?

You say we’re friends and friends take care of each other, don’t they? So, why won’t you let me?

Maybe it is that easy. Maybe it is that simple. But it’s still so hard to swallow.)

Tim gazes at you intently, like you are the only thing he is seeing in this moment and he is, in a way, and you struggle with it, pulling your eyes from his.

Only to catch the familiar sight of makeup, concealer caked at his forehead, partially hidden under his hair, but easy to pick out for you, just because, well, it’s not that great of a makeup job, and you’re close enough to see it. 

You know exactly what he must have to hide. 

You move of their own accord, raising your hands to his face and his eyes widen as you cup his cheeks, tugging him down a little.

He utters your name, an unknown emotion in his voice that makes your heart leapfrog to your throat and your skin prickle with heat but that’s not your purpose right now. 

His hands fall to your wrists, grasping them loosely, fingers warm, the heat of them palpable even through the material of your button-up. He doesn’t make a move to pull your hands away. Just holds steady there.

“You’re right,” you whisper, the words choking in your throat. “But what about you?”

Your left hand slips from his cheek, his own falling away from your wrist; soft strands of hair brush the back of your fingers as you push it away, then press to the bruise hidden by makeup. 

Flinching, he grabs your hand, pulling it away and saying your name. “It’s not about me right now.”

“I know,” you say quietly. “But it doesn’t make it any less true. I worry about you, too, Tim. But you never… there’s always an excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse,” he murmurs. “It’s the truth.”

“Don’t lie to me. Please.” 

“I’m fine. I’m okay. Don’t —” he stops.

“Don’t worry about it?” Your hands fall away from him.

He shakes his head minutely and steps closer to you, until you can smell his cologne, dizzying to your senses. 

“I’m a hypocrite, too,” he admits, his hands reaching up to cup your cheeks, thumb stroking gently over the sensitive skin underneath your eye. “But you have to trust me on this.”

The worst part is… you think you do.

You close your eyes, exhausted, a familiar wet sting surging up your nose. 

“Tim…”

“It’s a two-way street, though. That’s how this works. Even I know that and I’m willing to accept it. I just… We can scale back, if you want, if you don’t want to do that. That’s fine. Just tell me.”

You could still be friends. Just not as close. Not close enough to worry about him, not close enough for him to worry about you. Just friends who hang out occasionally to watch movies and TV shows.

Of course. Of course. You couldn’t have one thing without the other. You knew that. You just didn’t think you would be forced to make a decision so soon. You thought… You don’t know. Stupidly, that you could avoid it. 

It’s selfish, you know. But… it’s hard to give up control. It’s hard to admit you do want someone to help you sometimes. Even harder to admit that it’s Tim you want to do that.

(That it’s just him you want.

Just him.

But that is something for another time.)

You lean forward. He lets you go and your forehead meets his chest, his arms sliding around you. He’s warm, cologne heady to your senses. 

“I’m sorry, Timmy.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“Yes, I do. You’re right. I know that. I’m just…”

“It’s hard,” he murmurs. “I know.”

You don’t say anything, just shift closer to him, shameless now, but you don’t care. He holds you tighter in response, setting his chin gently on your head, and you have to pretend that everything in you isn’t turning into a puddle of goo at being held like this. Mostly because, you can’t remember the last time someone held you like this.

His hand is a warm brand between your shoulder blades. “If you want to bike to school, I won’t stop you. But the offer is still on the table. And the food is still for you.”

“I’ll go with you,” you mumble, voice muffled by the material of his suit. 

He hears you nonetheless, relaxing at your words. 

“Probably suck to do it, anyway,” you sigh. “With my knee and stuff. I was just being dumb.”

Tim shrugs slightly. “I’ve done stupider in the name of independence. Don’t sweat it.”

You would love to stay here for a little while longer. Forever, actually, but real life doesn’t allow for those kinds of indulgences, so you pull away reluctantly. 

“We should go,” he says, raising his wrist; the expensive watch there winks at you, glinting under the light. 

You nod and he picks up the thermos and lunch bag while you gather your own belongings. Soon enough, you are in the plush leather of his passenger seat, sipping at the thermos, the coffee there exactly as you like it. Your breakfast is a decent helping of sliced fruit. It’s a real privilege, especially because you know he shops his produce organically. Your breakfast, on most days, is usually a Pop-Tart. Sometimes a small yogurt shake if you’re feeling indulgent. 

Everything is still a little… loaded between you, so the car ride is quiet save for the radio, the news host talking about recent activity from the Titans. You run into some traffic halfway there, and warmed from the coffee and hunger thoroughly satiated, you rest your eyes for the most of it, until he’s pulling around the back, where the employee parking is and where there won’t be too many prying eyes. 

“Thanks for the ride.”

“I’ll see you after school? At four?”

“Mmhm. Have, uh, fun with your fellow capitalists.” 

At the tease, at a little bit of familiarity creeping in once more, he grins at you and you grin back.

“Have fun with your middle schoolers.”

“Thank you. I will.” A two-fingered salute and you slip out, taking your things with you.

You’re still achy and tired and your knee is bothering you but… it’s not all bad.

No, not all bad.

Your day is long but the universe looks out for you. The kids cooperate with you and Ms. C for the most part, probably because they have their field trip coming up next week to the Metropolis Zoo (Gotham’s is closed down — something about Poison Ivy). 

But soon enough, school is letting out for the weekend and Ms. C, as usual, disappears as quickly as she can. Weekends are sacred time, she’d once sagely told you. Weekends keep you sane. 

You believe it.

You have to wait, however, since…

“I mean… I could take the subway.”

On the other end of the line, Tim huffs softly, the noise faintly echo-y, signaling he’s in his car connected to the Bluetooth, rather than speaking directly into his phone. “Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Why is that?” you ask, seated at the stairs leading up to the school. Save for the other staff still hanging around in the office, the school is empty of students. 

Above you, heavy grey clouds hide away the sun. The sun doesn't set until eight in the evening these days — and will continue to set later and later as you grow closer to summer — but with these clouds, everything is darker, as if the sun has set, despite it only being a quarter until five. 

Lightning forks through the sky ahead of you. A second later, a fearsome rumble of thunder. Rain follows quickly with furious intensity. Not a sprinkle or a drizzle, but a downpour. 

“Oh, shit.”

You stand, going up a few steps to shield yourself completely. 

“Severe weather warning,” Tim tells you, a shade too smug. “But not for just rain and thunder —”

“Hail?”

It comes down quickly, plinking on the metal railings for the stairs, pounding against concrete. You are protected for the most part, but it is loud.

On the other end, he laughs. “Still want to walk to the station?”

Considering the aforementioned station is two blocks away, no, but he doesn’t need to be so smug about it.

You tell him as much. It was just a joke, okay! If you were presented with an option to take the subway or enjoy the comfort of Tim’s expensive car, you would obviously go with the latter. 

A minute later, the very same car pulls up to the curb. 

But there is a considerable amount of distance between you and the curb. Nothing crazy but enough that you think you would be very damp by the time you got to the car. Not to mention the hail, which shouldn’t grievously injure you but would surely be unpleasant.

“Aw, shit,” you mutter, gathering your things.

“I got it,” Tim says, then hangs up. Ahead of you, the driver’s door opens and he steps out, a big black umbrella opening above him. To your surprise, he’s still in his suit. You didn’t think he would be at Wayne Tower for so long. 

He walks briskly to you and you notice the car’s LED headlights still on, catching the falling rain and the hail intermixed with it. It makes sense not to turn it off but…

You creep to the edge of your shade, feeling a few droplets of rain hit your face as he comes up, pausing two stairs down from you. 

It’s silly, you think, for your heart to skip a beat at the sight of Tim holding a hand out for you, smiling faintly, his eyes warm. But you can’t help it or the butterflies that form in your belly. 

“Very chivalrous,” you say. “To come up and fetch me yourself. But this is Gotham. Bit of a risk to leave the car running, don’t you think? What if someone stole it?”

Tim smirks and shrugs. “Guess we’d have to take the subway.”

You laugh. You laugh as you take his hand and he pulls you under the cover of the umbrella, throwing an arm around your shoulders to ensure you are covered, and you’re still giggling as you arrive at the passenger door, sliding in quickly. 

Tim follows in the next moment, unable to avoid the rain and hail as he closes the umbrella and slides in, tossing it to the back. Droplets of rain dampen his hair and face and he wipes it away, smiling faintly as you quell your mirth.

“So,” you say breathlessly as he buckles up and pulls away from the curb. “I didn’t realize you were going to be at the office for so long. That’s not normal, is it?”

You can immediately tell it’s not the right thing to say. Or, rather, it reminds him of something he would rather forget, face pinching slightly before he relaxes. 

The radio is drowned out by the thrum of rain, windshield wipers working overtime to clear your field of vision. With the clouds blotting out the sun and the abrupt darkness, most cars have their headlights and taillights on, red lights smudged by the rainwater gliding down the glass. New Jersey drivers aren’t that great, but Gotham ones are even worse. You count Tim as part of that group, though he… tries to tone it down for you (if only to not give you a heart attack with the shit he does sometimes).

His fingers drum against the steering wheel and he gazes intently at the red taillights of the car in front of you. “Hungry?”

You accept the deflection. Mostly out of guilt. 

“Of course.”

“O’Shaughnessy’s?”

“I could go for a Paddy O’Melt and a Soder.”

“Soder?”

This is an old debate but you give into it easily, to inject some familiar bantering into the atmosphere.

“What’s wrong with Soder?”

“What’s right with Soder?” he shoots back. “Zesti is where it’s at.”

“Zesti sounds like some kind of a seasoning, not a soda.”

“Seasonings are good. Soder just sounds gross.”

“So-der, So-da. It’s very simple, Timothy.”

“Saying it in your teacher voice isn’t going to change my mind.”

You laugh and he does, too. Once you get closer to Rose Oaks, he pulls into the nearest O’Shaughnessy’s. A few minutes later, you have a hot bag of food on your lap and your sodas in the cup holders between you. He parks in the lot, away from the other cars, and shuts off the windshield wipers for the moment, letting rain streak the glass. The hail has stopped by now.

You split up the food. Two double Paddy O’Melts with fries, and a Zesti Cola for him and Soder Cola for you.

It’s quiet for a little while as you two eat, burning your tongues on hot fries and equally hot burgers, then soothing it away with cold Cola. 

You’re still working on your fries when he speaks.

“I don’t go into the office very often,” he says, agreeing with your earlier observation. He crumples up the wrapper for his burger, throwing it back into the bag, then cleans his hands with a napkin. 

You sip your soda and don’t say anything yet. You can tell he isn’t done.

A pensive look forms on his face as he sits back, looking out the rain-blurred windshield. Thunder rumbles loudly, sending vibrations through the ground that you can feel. 

He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Lucius asked me in for some stuff. And since I was there already, he tried to keep me in as long as he could. He knows I prefer telework but being in-office helps with morale.” 

You jolt slightly at the casual mention of Wayne Enterprises’ CEO, Lucius Fox. You should be used to it, but you’re really not. A lot of the times, it is hard to compartmentalize the fact that Tim Drake is one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors, someone that a lot of people are dying to be with and talk to; he is the son of Bruce Wayne, the most notorious man in this city. 

But to you, he’s just Tim. 

Tim who argues with you about the merits between a Zesti and a Soder, who admits to liking sci-fi movies but has a weak spot for 2000s dramatic comedies like The Devil Wears Prada and pretty much anything with Anne Hathaway in it, who once accidentally overcooked a hot dog (the prepackaged ones you can only cook by boiling; this one still mystifies you) but can bang out a solid breakfast of french toast with homemade whipped cream, berries, and maple syrup, paired with eggs and bacon all cooked to perfection.

Tim, who likes tennis and is currently trying to sway you to join him for a few friendly matches, who used to be into photography but dropped it as obligations to the real world tugged him elsewhere. Tim, who, when you ask him about college or dream careers, seems, frankly, lost regarding all of that. 

The word regarding his position at WE is that it’s simply a natural course of action. Some thought he might attempt to revive Drake Industries but most predicted he would go with WE. Maybe go to an Ivy League, get a business degree or a economics degree. This course of action was judged, naturally, because of course the son of a billionaire would get a free ride to Harvard or something, and major in something entirely predictable like business or economics. 

Or he would bypass it completely and that’s what ended up happening. In a way. He doesn’t work there full-time. Only when they ask him on for things. And this route is inevitably judged, too, because of course the son of a billionaire gets a high-status position in his adoptive father’s company without the credentials or degrees for it.

You understand.

You do.

But what it looks like to you is that he doesn’t even want to be there. 

“Maybe you should quit.”

Tim blinks, looking surprised at your suggestion. 

You shrug. “I mean, it’s not, like, a full-time job or anything, right? You’re volunteering your time. You don’t have to.”

“I have to do something,” he says. Reflexively, you think. “I have an obligation… I mean, if I can help them, I should. It’s not too much to ask, if I have the capabilities, the time to do it.”

It feels like you’re talking about something else now but you don’t ask. There is a lot to him you don’t know or understand. Abrupt absences, reoccurring tardiness, odd aches and pains. And now this… his work at WE but also… also something else.  

“Tim, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re in a position where you can afford that.”

“It’s not that easy,” he sighs. “It’s… an obligation. Especially with how much time I spent with the company since I was seventeen.”

“So, haven’t you done enough?”

He looks at you, surprised and something else you can’t identify. 

“I mean… I don’t know. I feel like you’ve done enough. But also, it doesn’t necessarily have to be about that. You can step back if you want. You can afford it. We talked about this, right? Take advantage of it. Maybe you can take up photography again or something. Maybe you can be my house-friend. Like a house husband but. You know.” You cough as he raises an eyebrow. “Friend.”

“So, basically, I clean and cook for you?”

You grin. “I wouldn’t say no to it.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to move in so badly. You should’ve said something —”

“Oh, shut up. You know what I’m saying. But… seriously. Do what you want to do, Tim.”

“What I wanna do, huh?” he murmurs, looking out the windshield again. The rain is starting to slow. 

“Whatever you want,” you agree softly. “I’ll support you. I’m sure your siblings will. The press will talk but that’s all it is — talk.”

Tim looks back at you, the set of his mouth as soft as his gaze as he looks at you, and your heart squeezes. 

“Thank you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t have to thank me. We’re friends, right?”

He smiles. “Right.”

You look away, your heart feeling like it wants to climb out of you and go to him. If only.

You finish your food and work on sipping at your soda. 

“So, I was wondering something,” you start, changing the subject.

“Yeah?”

“The sixth graders have a field trip next week Friday. We’re going to the zoo.”

He frowns. “Isn’t it closed still?”

You wave a hand. “In Metropolis.” Gotham City’s neighbor across the harbor. You aren’t looking forward to getting a class of sixth graders onto the ferry and into another city but at least you’ll have Ms. C with you.  

“Ah.”

“Yeah. I’m probably gonna be gone for most of the day, though. I was wondering if you could feed the boys breakfast and dinner? I have a spare key somewhere at home. I’ll give it to you. If you can, I mean. If you have something else to do —”

“I don’t,” he says easily. “I can do it.”

“Just don’t do anything weird.”

“And weird entails —?”

“Don’t sneak cameras into my bedroom or steal my underwear.”

“Sounds easy enough to avoid.”

You grin. “Thanks, Timmy. ‘Preciate it.”

“‘Course.” He sends you a smile. “This is part of the whole friend thing, too, you know.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “I know. That’s why I asked.”

He seems privately pleased about that, nodding approvingly, then turning the windshield wipers back on and pulling into reverse.

You will try to do better. You’ll try to let yourself be taken care of. And in return, you know he’ll try to do that, too. 

Maybe he’ll find something he can do. Maybe not. What’s important, you think, is that he’s happy. 

As for your budding feelings, the way your heart skips a beat, the way you get flustered under his attention, the way it gets harder to suppress the yearning for his touch, for his arms around you — the memory of this morning, of being held, is burned into your mind, sure to haunt you and your dreams for weeks to come — you will set it aside. 

You can acknowledge it, that your feelings have started to blur from platonic to something else, but that’s all.

More than anything, you want to keep Tim as a friend. Bringing in less-than-platonic feelings is sure to complicate that and you don’t want to lose him.

You aren’t sure you could handle that.

Not just because he helps soothe the loneliness, but because it’s him.

And that, you think, says more than anything else.

━ end notes

1. totally forgot to mention it, but i do subscribe to the belief that tim has to know how to cook some stuff. either learned from alfred or dana. i focused specifically on breakfast foods, because i feel like those are easiest compared to how dinner might get a little complicated (save for pasta; pasta is always easy)

2. one part of me also likes the thought that he's not that great at makeup/covering bruises with concealer but i also know it would be necessary, as in, something bruce (or more likely alfred) would teach it. we can just say for now, he slacked a little bit LOL

3. so we already know zesti but i was trying to look for another, to kind of echo the pepsi/coca-cola debate, and soder was listed on the dc wiki, so, that's what i used here. whether zesti is pepsi and soder is coca-cola or the other way around, i do not know, i'll leave that up to you guys (although i do think it would be funny for tim to be a zesti/pepsi fan and reader a soder/coca-cola fan; me, personally, pepsi is WAY too carbonated/strong, coke is where its at but i digress)

4. oh! also! o’shaughnessy’s! it's a call back to... i don't know the exact issue of robin (1993) but definitely the early ones. i also got tim's order from it as well and you can see the panel of it here. and also! the tennis thing i mentioned last chapter and here again, it is from robin (1993) too as well, i think (or maybe robin I, II, or III, not sure). it was super brief, like, i'm not entirely sure they ever mentioned him playing tennis again but you can pry tennis player!tim out of my cold dead hands

(i played tennis briefly in middle school and i wasn't good but boy was it so much fun and him playing tennis is just Perfect)

(also not having the issue numbers will be an issue if i reference direct panels again; i just save this stuff and never think about it again until i'm making in-universe references, so, sorry about that. it should be from his very early robin run, though)

5. i'm also an, admittedly, strong proponent of tim easing back out of the vigilante life as he gets older, just because it becomes the only thing he's doing, as well as stuff for WE. but whether that's what he wants is another question entirely, as in, does he even want to work at WE? it's easy, sure, but like... there is a difference between knowing how to do something and wanting to do it/be passionate about it. it's always kind of difficult to ascertain what to have him do, just because we know he isn't inclined for academia, at least not if he's also doing red robin stuff, but then, i don't think he's entirely happy living his life just doing corporate stuff. i admittedly didn't have enough space/room to explore this to my fullest extent so it may feel a little abrupt, as well as what happens in the following chapters because of this conversation, but that's what it is.

6. also! metropolis across the harbor! that is... that is admittedly something i lifted from the dceu movies, specifically, what was it? batman vs. superman? yeah. and LOOK i don't particularly like those movies or any... live-action stuff (i reallyyy prefer comics LOL or at least accuracy to the comics and portrayals of bruce are always so finicky to me because people like the version of him without kids but that's not really him!! anyway) however i do like the thought of gotham and metropolis being twin cities, so to speak. and YEAH not best for canon, especially if you think about no man's land but just. Let me have it. it's also for plot stuff. here. so. yeah.

reblogs are appreciated!

[corrodedcoughin]

Happy Valentine's!

I provide some soft angst:

Steve being genuinely not use to affection, whether that be nice compliments, someone saying "I'm proud of you", someone asking how his day went, folding his laundry when he's too tired. To be frank, it even feels a little uncomfortable because of how deprived he is of having someone who cares. So when he meets Eddie and he just provides all that naturally, he's stumped because no one's ever done this for him before.

Enjoy this nugget of a prompt darling~!

Ahhh I’m so sorry this is so delayed! Needless to say this is such a lovely prompt.

I’ve not got a full on Drabble for you in response but I do have some thoughts

Steve being uncomfortable at the start so he just tells Eddie again and again ‘it’s okay man. Seriously it’s okay I can do it’ whenever eddie tries to help. Eddie listens the first few times but one afternoon he arrives to Steve’s house and the guy is clearly wiped out. He doesn’t bully his way in, knows that won’t work here. (Wayne is equally terrible at accepting help, as a result eddie has learned to be sneaky in his tactics)

So Eddie follows Steve into the kitchen where he’s got a pot of coffee on and a pile of laundry on the kitchen island ready for sorting. Steve makes a beeline for the pile, clearly he was interrupted in the middle of his task. And Eddie sets to work on the coffee, setting a mug infront of Steve when he’s done and joining in on the task at hand, folding the many polo shirts of Steve.

Steve is a little foggy, slow to realise Eddie has joined in and made him a drink until but when he does he starts with his usual ‘you really don’t have to waste your afternoon with me man. I’m honestly fine on my own, it’s cool.’ Eddie just hums and continues his folding ‘that’s nice’. He doesn’t argue the point, doesn’t engage in the discussion. Steve looks like he’s about to argue when Eddie throws a pair of boxers at his face ‘I’m here because I want to be but you can fuck off if you think I’m folding your unmentionables’

Steve takes them with a small smile and lets Eddie take him down the garden path of conversation of his plans for tomorrow, his shifts for the week and excitable nods of approval when Steve runs down the latest episode of wrestling that Eddie’s dodgy cable hook up unfortunately doesn’t receive.

And because Steve is a creature of habit, Eddie turns up at the exact same time next week to do it all over again. It takes two months for Steve to stop protesting, which is when eddie starts planning the next ‘Steve wall of affection aversion’ to take down.

[stvharrngton]

kyrie <3 listen <3 a thot i’ve been pondering <3 steve being his girl’s first boyfriend and she has always had an aversion to touch and steve respected that and tried to always make her comfy even if he’s been dying to touch her and kiss her and cuddle her but through the course of their friendship she started craving his touch and didn’t know what to do about it. once they finally get together she’s surprised at how… good, and homey, cozy, delightful his touch is. she’s always gone through life thinking things such as “there’s no way kissing feels as nice as people say” / “i don’t understand how people enjoy hugs” / “people must be exaggerating when they say sexual touches feel good” / “i doubt touching (insert place) actually feels nice. people must be lying” etc because whenever anyone hugged her or kissed her cheek or touched her arm or hand she always caved into herself, tried to move away, felt uncomfortable. and whenever she tried to touch herself it never felt any good— so once her stevie slowly starts getting affectionate she’s just… visibly shocked that it feels nice and it scares her, but at the same time she’s been dreaming of steve’s touch

i think steve would be so patient and caring towards his girl if she ever felt uncomfy about touch. like he’d always make sure she knew that he was fine with it, that it was cool with him if she didn’t want to cuddle or kiss even though this boy has been straight up dying to get his hands all over her. but he’d do everything he could to keep those feelings at bay for her. it would start with a hand on the small of her back, hand on her shoulder/bicep, fingers stroking the hair away from her face. then it would slowly get to holding hands, arms linking together as they walked side by side. a kiss to her cheek and forehead here and there and she finally asks if they can cuddle on the couch at their movie night and steve is overjoyed, finally able to wrap his arms around his best girl. he’d pull you in tight, head resting on yours as he’d whisper words of reassurance ‘tell me if you wanna stop’ and ‘if you feel uncomfortable just tap my arm babe’ 🥺 and then a week later she’d ask for a kiss and it’s all soft and gentle cause it’s stevie 🥺 and it feels so good and nice and she gets a little flustered about it all but one thing leads to another and then she’s in his lap, hands in his hair, his arms around her waist in a sweet lil make out sesh <3

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' PART 9/10

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8

Part 7 and 8 are Explicit. And nothing else makes sense without the first six parts but you do you!

PART NINE

            Jake goes through the next few minutes in a haze as he finishes the washing up and watches Bradley hug Admiral Kazansky good bye, telling him they’ll see him tomorrow. He’s told it was very nice to meet him and Jake returns the sentiment, meaning it wholeheartedly. Still difficult to think of the COMPACFLT as someone who makes amazing waffles and likes Star Wars, but he imagines he’ll get there. Bradley leans into his space, hooks fingers into the loops on his jeans and grins at him.

            “So. You survived.”

            “Yeah, he’s actually pretty cool.”

            “Well yeah, he’s… he was the steady presence for me. The one I felt like I could always call up and get advice. Proper advice. Not Mav’s just do it attitude, deal with the consequences later approach… It works for him but I’ve always been a little more careful.”

            “Risk averse?”

            “Not really, but definitely always wanted to weigh things up before committing properly.”

            Jake hums, because he’s wondering if he’s reading too much into that statement, that Bradley is saying something about not wanting to risk committing being with him. He doesn’t think so. It goes against everything Bradley has said and done in the last twenty-four hours but he can’t help the little niggle of doubt.

            “So… He gave you permission to tell your friends.”

            “You were listening huh?”

            “Of course I was. Ice knows I always listen in. More difficult to do when he’s only using ASL though. He’d have used pen and paper if he really didn’t want me to know.”

            “I’ll add it to my pile of stuff to learn…

            “You’re going to learn ASL?”

            “Well, I want to be able to understand whatever you guys are saying to each other. I mean, I thought this sign was pretty obvious,” he makes the two-handed gesture he had thought meant blowjob and Bradley snorts, rests his forehead on Jake’s shoulder and his laugh is gentle and quiet and he never wants this feeling of rightness to end.

            “Oh no, that’s totally the sign for what you think it is. Blow job.”

            “What?!”

            “It was a comment I made months ago, when Mav was telling me about you. About how you disobeyed orders and saved his life…”

            Jake can’t believe that Mav just talks about fucking top-secret missions. Obviously he’s assuming Bradley isn’t sharing it with anyone who doesn’t already know, but how the fuck has Admiral Kazansky not murdered Maverick yet?

            “How the fuck does Kazansky say anything at home?”

            “Well, he doesn’t,” Bradley says and Jake groans at the bad joke.

            “Shut up! You know what I mean!”

            Bradley laughs, shakes his head and shifts his hands from the belt loops to hook his hands behind Jake, pulling him close. He shoves his hands into the back pockets of Bradley’s jeans, needs somewhere to put them to stop feeling awkward.

            “Anyway, Mav told me about you saving his life and I jokingly asked him if he’d wanted me to give you a thank you blow job. You know he kept sending me things to do at the cabin, like he was trying to make me stick around until you got there. He likes to think he’s sneaky but he’s like a sheet of glass.”

            “So what, you’re with me because you’re grateful?”

            “Nope. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful, Mav is pretty fucking important to me. But I’m not with you because of that. You’re funny and intelligent and you aren’t intimidated by me or my career. That’s a pretty fucking amazing trifecta right there,” Bradley says, and he’s completely serious now, his eyes intent on Jake’s face like he really wants to press home how much he believes what he’s saying and Jake shifts uncomfortably, not used to being the subject of such an intense gaze.

            “And then… and then, on top of that, my dad, Mav, already likes you. Tomorrow night he was going to try and set me up with you a third time. And Ice? He thinks you’re hilarious. That you’ll, and I quote, fit in with our crazy family without even trying, end quote. I’ve adlibbed a bit. Anyway, those are five things which I find are pretty important. I usually don’t have the Mav and Ice approval so early on… Jesus Jake. Do you have any idea how amazing I think you are?”

            Jake swallows, throat tight and he shakes his head a little, because no, he didn’t think Bradley thought anything like that about him. Not like that.

            “And then there are the sprinkles and cherry, which are you getting on with my friends, maybe a little too well to be honest. And all of this? Wrapped up in something that looks like you do… it’s like hitting the jackpot.”

            “Oh.”

            “Too much?”

            “Maybe a little?” Jake says, unsure as he sucks in a shaky breath.

            “Okay… so what did you want to do today? We’ve got all afternoon and all night…”

            “Whatever will we do to entertain ourselves.”

            “I’ve got some ideas.”

…         …         …

            Bradley doesn’t know exactly where Jake’s insecurities come from, but the lack of him talking about his parents makes him wonder. Jake hasn’t said they were dead, only mentioned his brother and sister when they’d emailed about family. Jake is confident, cocky and a touch arrogant like every naval aviator Bradley has ever met. It hasn’t seemed to bleed into his relationships though, not if he’s never really had one. And maybe that’s the telling part. It’s okay, he can work with that. Finds himself willing to work with it, when Jake is just… leaving himself so open like this.

            They make out against the kitchen bench for a little while, there’s no sense of urgency for him. Not when he’s had more orgasms in the last twenty-four hours than he’s had the entire week prior. Still, there’s a low buzzing thrum of arousal in his body and he’s pretty sure that it will just become his natural state when Jake is nearby. Another thing he’s willing to work with.

            “So, are you going to tell them?” Bradley asks, because he’s insanely curious and part of him wants all of Mav’s usual machinations to be ruined just so he can see the look on his face for once.

            “Who? Oh, the other Daggers coming tomorrow? Yeah. Probably. Think I’d like to introduce you to Javy if that’s okay?”

            “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be? You met most of my friends last night.”

            “Javy is my best friend.”

            “Okay…?”

            “He’s definitely going to want to meet you…”

            “You want to have him around, cook dinner?”

            “No. I don’t want to spend time cooking for them when I’m still getting to know you.”

            “You’re secretly the sweetest, you know that?”

            Jake looks embarrassed, doesn’t meet his eye and Bradley kisses him again, slow and gentle, tries to reassure with every press of his lips. Then Jake is pulling back, eyes wide and he’d be worried except Jake looks delighted.

            “Oh my god… I can fuck with him. I can fuck with him so bad.”

            “What? Who?”

            “Javy… this is like a triple blind.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “He knows I’ve been emailing this professor. He probably isn’t picturing someone like you, when you think professor.”

            Bradley’s takes that for the compliment he assumes is there somewhere, grins and nods encouragement.

            “So I let him meet you, and he’s not going to expect you at all… then… do you have a photo album or something?”

            “No, Mav’s got most of them. I’ve got a couple of pictures somewhere. What do you want exactly?”

            “Picture of you and Mav…”

            “Oh… what, you going to bring him back and introduce me and then just hope he stumble across a photo album picture of me and Mav?”

            “Well, when you put it like that…”

            “Nah, I think I can think of something. Put some on the fridge maybe? I’ve got a graduation photo as well somewhere. I hide it because Kezia gives me shit about how young I look.”

            “Yeah… do you mind?”

            Bradley grins and shakes his head, is pretty sure Jake is now feeling the same glee he had when he realized he could maybe get Mav.

            “I’ve got to ring him, stupid asshole, trying to hide the fact that he’s in North Island…”

            Bradley pulls away slightly, clearly isn’t allowed to go to far as Jake refuses to remove a hand from his back pocket, tugs him close as he presses call on his phone and waits for his friend to answer.

            “Hey man, how’s it going?”

            “Hey. I’m good. And I have a bone to pick with you. You’re in North Island.”

            “How the fuck did you find that out? It was meant to be a surprise!”

            “A little bird told me…” Jake looks at Bradley then and he laughs silently, little bird indeed. Standing so close he can hear everything, especially with how Jake is angling the phone.

            “Who?”

            “Not important. Anyway, I wanted to talk about something. You know that guy I was emailing?”

            “Who? The professor guy?”

            “Yeah. Him.”

            “Ooohhh… you hot for teacher?”

            “Yeah. I am actually.”

            “Holy shit! Really? He’s not like old as fuck and walking around with a zimmer frame?”

            “No, no zimmer frame in sight.”

            Bradley laughs silently again, is a little horrified that maybe Jake at any stage thought that maybe Bradley was that old, but listens as Jake arranges to meet Javy for an early dinner in a few hours at one of the burger bars downtown. He hangs up and then kisses Bradley firmly.

            “Man this is going to be fun. I see why the Admiral is so excited about tricking Mav now… and why Mav must enjoy doing it to people.”

            “Do not encourage him. He doesn’t need encouragement okay?”

            “Yeah yeah… okay. Fuck. I’m sorry. I should have checked. Are you okay with me going out to dinner?”

            “Of course… I’m not your keeper or anything.”

            “But we’ve only just… met. I don’t want you to think that he’s more important –”

            “Jake. He’s your best friend. Has been your best friend for years. Someone who you also haven’t seen in over seven months I’m betting. He’s more important. I don’t mind at all.”

            He really doesn’t, the fact that Jake had immediately wanted to arrange to see his best friend, even if he’s using the excuse to fuck with him, tells him more than Jake probably realizes. That’s he’s loyal, and places importance on his relationships in equal measure. It’s a good sign. He can’t handle being the only person in anyone’s life, learnt that one early on.

            “Well, I know you have work to do. Don’t pretend you don’t… you were complaining about it in your last email.”

            “Yeah, but you’re here…”

            “I am here right now. And I’ll be back later. Consider it an incentive to get as much work done while I’m gone as you can…”

            “Yeah okay, I’ve always been pretty focused with the right motivation…”

            “Good to hear. You know what I want to do right now?” Jake asks, and both his hands are back on Bradley’s ass, gripping him through his pockets.

            “What?” Bradley asks, letting himself grind up against Jake with clear interest.

            “I want to fuck you.”

            “You going to ask nicely?”

            “Bradley, please, let me fuck you. I want to get my mouth on you, my fingers inside, stretch you open for my cock, then I want to fuck you and leave those marks all over your chest you asked for and want to see if you’ll beg me to touch your cock, or if you can come without that…”

            “Yeah… that’s pretty nice…”

…         …         …

            Jake leans down, latches his mouth on the sensitive nipples he’d discovered last night and sucks. Bradley’s cock jerks between them, a spurt of precum dripping from the head.

            “How are you so hot?”

            “Good genes…” Jake snorts, licks his way across Bradley’s chest.

            “You sure about these marks? You know I’m not a horny teenager unable to control myself…”

            “Channel your inner teenager, go to town okay? I want to look absolutely wrecked.”

            “This better not fucking backfire…” Jake mutters, because while he’s not generally a guy that gets off on leaving marks, it isn’t exactly a hardship to suck at Bradley’s body when he responds so beautifully, because him enjoying it is something that will get him off.

            “Trust me…”

            Jake can’t believe it, but he does, he really does. He thrusts forward, not quite getting the leverage he’d usually have considering he’s trying to mark Bradley up as much as humanely possible with his mouth.

            “You can leave more later, please, just fuck me… come on.”

            “Okay.”

            He lets himself focus on drawing back before snapping his hips forward, watching Bradley’s face carefully to gauge whether that’s okay. The way his eyes fall shut the same time his mouth gasps open he’s going to take it as a winner and he does it again again again, feeling his own orgasm coiling up in his gut. He can see a half-dozen bite marks starting to darken across Bradley’s chest and collar bone, feels an unexpected thrill. Inner teenager indeed.

            Bradley isn’t making any move to touch himself and he wonders if he needs or wants Jake’s hand on him, whether he’s holding back for some reason Jake’s not aware of. Bradley’s hands are all over Jake’s body instead, running over his chest, down his arms, digging into his shoulders and he’s getting close, wants to touch Bradley now but also wants to know what exactly might tip him over the edge. He has a hunch. He adjusts slightly, mostly maintaining his pace and then he scrapes a blunt nail across Bradley’s left nipple and bloody fucking hell. He almost jackknives up and headbutts Jake in the face, though the loud whine he makes has Jake doing in again; ready this time for the entire-body jerk and he presses down with more force, captures Bradley’s mouth in a hard kiss.

            Then he shifts again, sucks the same nipple into his mouth and yeah, Bradley’s coming, his voice making broken sounds that have Jake’s name mixed in and he licks one more time, savors the full body spasm that Bradley gives and then he fucks into him a few more times, watching Bradley as he lies almost catatonic beneath him, and Jake has never felt so fucking smug before in his life. Yeah. This is fucking amazing.

            Later, post showers, music playing in the background, they sit on the sofa, Bradley reading through essays he’s marking, constantly muttering under his breath and Jake can’t help but smile to himself every time Bradley grumbles and taps away, clearly making comments. Jake’s replied to some emails and is now reading the manual for one of the aircraft he’s going to be asked to inspect as part of his interview for the test pilot position, and he feels quietly comfortable. He makes a few notes, wonders if he could ask Mav some questions and guesses he can likely ask Mav many things now.

            He gets up and uses the bathroom, comes back through to the kitchen for a glass of water and sees there is already a new photo on the fridge and it’s Bradley as a toddler, with an incredibly young-looking Mav grinning at him. There’s a couple and he recognizes Nick Bradshaw from the Navy database photo. The woman must be Bradley’s mom. She has the same easy smile and a little part of him aches for the fact that he’ll never meet them but Bradley will never meet his own parents either so it doesn’t make him feel bad enough to dwell on it.

            He’s a bit peckish so he raids the fridge and cupboards, prepares a plate of cheese and crackers along with some apple slices and grapes; things that can be eaten one handed. He brings it back to the sofa, kicks at Bradley’s feet and passes him a glass of water, leaning down to give him a kiss before going back to his reading.

            “Thanks…”

            “I’ve got a vested interest in making sure your energy levels stay up.”

            “Yeah you do…”

            They grin at each other but lapse back into doing their own thing.

…         …         …

            He has no idea how he lost time so quickly, or how he quite got through so much marking. Definite motivation he guesses, glancing at Jake. At least that’s what he’s going to put it down to. Jake bringing him snacks has let him keep his momentum, rather than get distracted and it’s kind of nice to have someone else just showing that extra consideration. He hadn’t expected it and it makes him feel a little unprepared for just how easily Jake had just simply thought of him and what he might need.

            “Hey, I’m going to go, I’ll see you in a bit okay? I’ll bring you back dessert…”

            “Mmm… look forward to it.” Bradley says, deliberately misconstruing his meaning and running his eyes down Jake’s body meaningfully. Gets a playful shove in response and he laughs.

            “I meant ice cream, but sure, you can have me too…”

            “Wait, you want to take my car? And take the spare key.”

            “Uh… what?”

            “Take my spare keys. They’re on a hook behind the door. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. Then you don’t have to book a Lyft or be buzzed in, or knock on the door. That okay?”

            “Yeah. Okay. Yeah.”

            “Good.”

            “That made my brain go offline…”

            “More than the idea of me wanting to eat you for dessert? Clearly not doing a proper job of it.”

            “Fuck Bradley…”

            “Yeah, we’re pretty good at that…”

            “Oh my god, stop already. I’ve got to get going,” Jake mutters, but he still looks pleased, and definitely less spooked than he did mere moments before. “I’ll stop in at the grocery store on my way back. I’m bringing Javy back to meet you remember? So don’t strip yourself naked and wait for me on the bed. Do more work and I’ll see you later. Don’t forget to eat something more than cheese and crackers. You need anything for these brownies we’re apparently taking tomorrow?”

            “Oh. Dark chocolate. I like the idea of being naked and waiting for you in bed… we’ll have to explore that later.”

            Jake grins, gives him another kiss, firmer this time and Bradley presses into it.

            “I’ll pick up the chocolate.”

            “Thanks. Enjoy dinner with Javy…”

            “Will do.”

…         …         …

            He walks into the bar and spots Javy easily. He hadn’t expected for them to be joined by Trace and Floyd but there they are, all chatting with each other and dressed in civvies, and he slides into the spare seat at the table, greets them all.

            “You don’t seem surprised. Did the little bird tell you that they were here too?”

            “Yep. Dinner tomorrow night.”

            “Huh. I want to know who this birdy is… Mav?”

            “He’s really shit at keeping secrets sometimes,” Jake provides, thinking about Mav’s whole secret relationship with the Admiral, but then not stopping to think about sharing mission critical information with Bradley. Or Jake’s own medical history. The fact that he hadn’t exactly told Jake that they were in town, and Bradley had just let him overhear is something he won’t ever be admitting to.

            “How are you two?” Jake asks, because unlike Javy who he’s emailed a couple of times a week since they went on their first deployments in different directions, he doesn’t keep in regular contact with either of them, just the standard group chat that the Dagger Squad have which goes through peaks and troughs of communication. They talk about superficial things for a while, take in the ambience of the burger joint and place their order with the waitstaff.

            “Any particular reason we’re eating so early?”

            “I had a late breakfast so needed an early dinner.”

            “A late breakfast huh? Were you busy in bed?” Javy asks, grinning and leaning back, knowing he’s just let the cat out amongst the pigeons and Jake doesn’t care, because he’s going to get them all and he’s going to enjoy every fucking minute. Phoenix and Bob both look between him and Javy, expressions only mildly interested.

            “Yep. Sure was. Had someone special cook for me as well…”

            “Jake’s been emailing this professor guy, getting all hot and bothered via email!”

            “God, shut up…”

            “I’m not saying anything untrue!”

            “Well, we’re not emailing anymore, I met him yesterday. Properly,” he adds, thinking back to over ten months ago when he’d first met Bradley at the cabin.

            “Yeah? What’s he like?”

            “He’s great. He’s smart, and funny and understands being in the Navy pretty well for a civilian. We went rock climbing with his friends last night… I was going to ask if you wanted to meet him,” Jake says, looking at Javy, because he’ll know how significant that is. He’s never introduced anyone to Javy before.

            “Oh holy shit. You’re serious?”

            “Yeah. It’s pretty serious.”

            “Wow…” Javy says and Jake’s pretty sure he’s at a loss for what to say.

            “You got a picture or anything?”

            “Uh, no…” He doesn’t want to say they’ve been a bit busy to take selfies, although he will definitely want some photos next time he’s away from Bradley. Fuck. Bradley’s going to need a better phone with a decent camera and Jake can’t trust him with that. They’re going to have to figure out something though.

            “Look at that blush!”

            “Too busy with other things huh?”

            “Shut up. You want to meet him or not?”

            “Hell yes! I’m picking if he’s into rock climbing he’s not in his eighties.”

            “He’s a couple years older than me, and he can definitely keep up with me…” Jake says, and he realizes then that Bradley likely grew up training with Mav and being expected to go on runs with him and likes to exercise, rather than needing to do it as a requirement for his job like Jake needs to do.

            “And I’m sure you’ve tested that out…”

            “Yes, several times in fact,” Jake grins back, feeling pretty smug.

            “That invitation to meet him open to all of us?” Phoenix asks and Jake shrugs, like he doesn’t care either way, knows if he plays it too keen they’ll get suspicious.

            “Yeah, sure. Come and meet him. He already said he wants to meet Javy.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah, he’s heard a lot about you…”

            Javy’s eyebrow goes up at that, and Jake grins, because he’s referring to Bradley’s comment about Mav talking about all the Dagger Squad. Bradley’s likely to have an idea of each of them through whatever Maverick thinks of them, which is a little humbling because from what Bradley has implied Mav seems to think Jake is somehow someone worthy of his respect. And time. Someone he thinks is good enough for Bradley to be with, and he finds that to be a pretty huge commendation on what Mav thinks of him.

            Their food arrives and he flicks a quick message to Bradley, no idea if he will even check it before Jake gets back to the apartment. Their conversation turns to work, talking about different aspects of training they’re each carrying out in different parts and he mentions he’s applied for the test pilot position at Fallon on Mav’s recommendation. Phoenix is taking an instructor role at Top Gun for the next two years, while Javy and Bob are slated to do training of new pilots at Pensacola for eighteen months. Jake doesn’t have any current orders, having only returned from a seven-month deployment at sea, but he’s hoping he’s at least going to be land-bound for the next little while even if he doesn’t get the test pilot position.

            “Okay, I need to go to the grocery store on the way back. I’m just getting some ice cream and chocolate. I’ll meet you guys outside the apartment building,” Jake says, giving them the address and watching them all plug it into the map app on their phones.

            “Can you get Moose Tracks?”

            “Who said the ice cream was for you?”

            “You mean you’re getting ice cream and chocolate and not going to share it with us?”

            “The chocolate is for the brownies we’re making for dinner tomorrow, not for eating.”

            “Just buy more chocolate.”

            “Wait. Is he coming to dinner tomorrow night?”

            Jake freezes, and shakes his head, thinks frantically.

            “Uh no, of course not. I’m just bringing some brownies for tomorrow. Bradley’s a really good cook…”

            “I was going to say, inviting the guy to Mav’s for dinner seems a little rude.”

            Jake laughs, wonders if they can here how crazy he’s feeling. This subterfuge shit is harder than he thought. God he needs to get back to the apartment.

            “I’ll see you guys there! Bye!”

…         …         …

            They’re waiting for him outside and he’s glad he didn’t tell them the apartment number. Wouldn’t have put it past them to buzz Bradley and ambush him before Jake got back. Javy is looking at the keys in his hand with a raised eyebrow and Jake simply makes a what would you have me do face. He’s aware he’s falling hard and fast, but he also feels like Bradley’s a giant safety net ready to catch him. He opens the apartment door, trying to be a little noisy to give Bradley some warning, because his five phone messages have all gone unanswered and he wonders if it’s finally death-knell time for his current phone. For all he knows ten months might be a personal record.

            “Hi…” Bradley says, appearing in the doorway to the hall and he’s clearly had a shower and changed, no longer wearing the tank and sweats he’d lounged around in most of the day. Instead he’s in jeans and a dark blue Henley, looking all sorts of delectable and Jake gives him an approving smirk and gets an eyeroll back in return, it’s accompanied with a grin though and yeah, he’s falling and falling, doesn’t want to stop.

            “Hey. Uh. These two were there as well.”

            “Okay,” Bradley says, walking over and holding out a hand to shake, starting with Javy and he bites back a comment about making Mav proud with his manners.

            “Bradley, this is Javy Machado, Natasha Trace and Bob Floyd. Javy, Natasha and Bob, this is Bradley Bradshaw.”

            “Hey man, nice to meet you,” Javy says, shaking Bradley’s hand, and he’s definitely scrutinizing Bradley for asshole vibes and Jake can’t help but feel a deep swell of appreciation for his best friend. Yeah. He’s got his back. Bradley is shaking Natasha and Bob’s hands and then reaching for the grocery bag.

            “Let me take that and put it in the freezer… Wow. Did we really need four different flavors of ice cream?”

            “Well, I don’t know your favorite, so I got vanilla and chocolate, and then she wanted the Moose Tracks,” Jake says, pointing at Phoenix who looks suitably annoyed at being thrown under the proverbial bus. “And when I’m already getting three tubs of ice cream I figured I might as well round it out with strawberry. And I got fudge sauce…”

            “Fair argument. I prefer vanilla with fudge sauce, so top marks…” Bradley says, throwing him a wink and Jake flushes, because he knows Javy is going to take that as some sex role-play thing when it’s not, just a reference to their conversation yesterday. Fuck. Was it only yesterday?

            “Make yourselves at home, does anyone want tea or coffee? Bowls of ice cream? Or are we all wanting to forgo bowls and just eat directly from the tubs and enter sugar highs side-by-side?”

            He walks towards the kitchen and Phoenix and Bob follow him and he lets Javy tug him to the side a little.

            “He is not what I imagined.”

            “Nope. Pretty fucking hot right?”

            “I mean… I guess? I’m more impressed with the way he looks at you like he’d give you the world if you asked for it. I was worried that you were gone on this guy, but he seems pretty gone on you too, so… that’s good. You deserve a guy that wants to do everything for you.”

            Jake nods sharply, because he gets that. In theory. It’s nice to hear, even if hearing and feeling it so much in the last day has felt overwhelming, even if it has been positive. He glances up and Javy is looking at him like he understands, gives Jake a quick hug before heading to the kitchen to join the other two in getting ice cream. He glances around the living room and sees two new photo frames, Bradley’s graduation photo with Maverick set at about eye-level, and another frame set at about knee height, where the Admiral is in uniform with Bradley standing beside him, so there’s definitely no mistaking him and he grins.

            “Are you sure we haven’t met, you just look really familiar,” Phoenix is saying, like she’s trying to place him and Jake hides his grin. Wonders if Bradley knows Mav has a photo of him on his desk. An old photo, but still a photo.

            “Maybe I just have one of those faces?” Bradley suggests, catching Jake’s eye.

            They’ve clearly decided to start in on the ice cream, digging in and serving themselves up and using bowls; the kitchen isn’t big enough for five people, so he reaches to give Bradley a kiss across the counter and Bradley obliges by meeting him halfway. It feels so easy and the rollercoaster ride does a loop-de-loop again.

            “Jesus Bagman, did you become a vampire while you were deployed?”

            Jake looks to see what she’s talking about and Bradley’s Henley has pulled slightly, caught between the counter and his body as he stretched across to kiss him; revealing the highest of the marks Jake left and another a little lower. Bradley pulls back, tugging the Henley back into place and shrugs, clearly not embarrassed at all so Jake decides to follow his lead and just smirks at her eyeroll. Bob has headed out to inspect the bookshelves and Jake can feel the anticipation growing.

            “So, what do you do Bradley?”

            “I’m an engineer. A problem solver.”

            “Well, good thing you’re with the biggest problem we have then.”

            “Hey!” Jake objects, but they’re all laughing at him and he rolls his eyes, flicks them the middle finger, but Bradley is wrapping his arms around Jake’s waist and kissing his shoulder.

            “If you’re a problem then it’s the kind of problem I like to have…”

            The look Javy gives him is flat, like he thinks Jake is maybe an idiot for thinking that Bradley is somehow not into him. Or maybe Javy is the idiot, because there is no way that Jake is letting this go.

            “Hey Phoenix, do you mind putting the ice-cream back in the chiller?”

            She lets out a put-upon sigh but does it with a mouthful of ice cream, spoon hanging out of her mouth and Jake waits, watches as she opens and then closes the door, her eyes catching the photo. She’s generally more observant than Javy so he’s hoping she’ll get the ball rolling, or Bob will see the photos on the bookshelves first.

            “Is this… Who are these people in this photo?”

            “My parents and godfather…” Bradley says. “And me as a kid obviously. My dad died not long after that photo was taken actually.”

            “Oh… I’m sorry,” Phoenix says, looking uncomfortable and Jake wonders if that’s going to derail everything, but Javy is now looking as well, then glancing at Bradley.

            “Thanks. It’s fine. Was a long time ago now obviously. My godfather really stepped up and helped my mom raise me. She passed over twenty years ago though, so that’s one of my few family photos.” Jake hadn’t really put all that together and he wonders where Bradey usually keeps it.

            “I’m sorry, I just have to ask, what’s your godfathers name?”

            “Pete.”

            “Peter Mitchell. Maverick,” Javy states, looks to Bradley for confirmation and he gives a nod. Jake grins, pretty impressed Javy put I together the fastest. “Plus you have a moustache that belongs in a porno from the 80s…” Javy adds and Bradley’s eyebrows shoot up, he looks to Jake and Jake coughs, his ice cream catching in his throat with an aborted laugh. He’d forgotten he’d said that.

            “Holy shit, you’re Mav’s son. He has your photo on his desk,” Phoenix says. “That’s why you looked familiar!”

            “Guilty as charged. Don’t hold it against me. Jake wanted to have a little fun…”

            “Hey! Don’t blame this on me!”

            “It was you going on about a triple blind…”

            “What are you guys talking about?” Bob asks, coming back to stand in the kitchen and he’s looking between them all and he wonders if he heard the conversation.

            “Bradley here is Mav’s son.”

            “Oh. Huh. That explains the photo of him on the bookcase. I was going to ask how you knew him.”

            “You must know Mav’s partner. Oh my god! You almost slipped up and told us he was coming to dinner tomorrow, because of course he’s coming to dinner tomorrow. At least you don’t have to worry about introducing the boyfriend to Mav!” Phoenix says, laughing and Jake shrugs, because she has a point. Not that he’d ever really thought about seeking Mav’s approval for that part of his life.

            “Wait, so you’ve already met Mav’s partner? It’s a guy right? That’s the big secret right? What with DADT and everything…”

            “That was definitely part of it… but uh…” He stops, feels unsure suddenly, because even though Admiral Kazansky gave him explicit permission, and Jake clarified, that he’s expecting Jake to tell them, so Mav can’t ambush them with the same information tomorrow he realizes the amount of trust he’s been given.

            “His partner’s also in the Navy. I met him this morning.”

            “Is it Cyclone?”

            “Idiot! He’s met Cyclone. Will we know them?”

            “Yes. And its going to fuck you all up so much…”

            “You’re enjoying this way too much,” Javy mutters.

            “He told me to call him Tom and made me waffles this morning, and I’m still processing it okay? I just want to make you all freak out like I did…”

            “Can’t you just tell us?” Phoenix asks, looks at Bradley and he shakes his head. Jake blinks. He just said his first name. What the fuck?

            “Nope. Jake made me put clues out and everything. Pretty sure you can figure it out. And you’re right, it’s not Beau.”

            “Did you just call Admiral Simpson by his first name?”

            Jake snorts, lets out a little laugh and catches Bradley’s eye, clearly amused.

            “I call most of them by their first names. Some of them I’ll call uncle… And I’m just a civilian remember.”

            “Holy shit,” Bob says, voice quiet and Jake looks to see what he’s looking at.

            Sure enough he’s finally noticed the picture of Bradley and Admiral Kazansky, sitting the perfect height to be noticed if you’re sitting down, but not if you’re standing.

            “Admiral Tom Kasansky.”

            “Bullshit,” Javy says, emphatic and Jake just smirks, knows he’s got a couple more bullshits to get through before he starts to accept it.

            “Are you… you’re… holy shit. You’re serious.,” Bob says, looking between Jake and Bradley and then back to the photo.

            “Yep,” Jake says, popping another spoon of ice cream in his mouth.

            “Is he telling the truth? I mean, anyone can doctor photos now…” Phoenix says, and again she’s skipping over him to talk directly with Bradley.

            “All true. I mean, I call him Ice because I grew up calling him that.”

            Javy makes a high pitched sound that Jake will take as something equal to a second bullshit.

            “Anyway, he wanted to meet Jake without the whole formal dinner thing. So he came around and made waffles.”

            “Bullshit. No fucking way did the COMPACFLT make fucking waffles!”

            “He did, and he is telling the truth,” Bradley says, starting to look a little worried that Javy seems to be freaking out. Jake moves an arm to wrap around his waist, gives him a quick wink to try and convey that everything is okay and it seems to relax him.

            “Wait… you seriously met Admiral Kazansky this morning?”

            “Tom,” Jake provides, ignoring the immediate sense of wrongness at the name, but he’s going for shock value.

            “Bullshit…” Javy says again, but it’s quieter now, and Jake can tell he's processed the worst of it.

            “Nope. He told me to call him Tom.”

            “I need a fucking drink.”

            “I can help with that,” Bradley says.

PART TEN

[fatcatjace]

Some disclaimers when trying to dm me:

This isn’t said with any malice towards anyone in particular, I just want to make my boundaries clear.

1. I’m not a woman, bbw, girl, queen, madam, etc. Don’t refer to me as such.

2. I’m asexual. I am genital-averse. Do not send me unsolicited dick pics or try to talk to me about your dick. I don’t want to hear about how sexy you find me or how you get off to my pics. Gross. Don’t do that.

3. Don’t expect me to reciprocate fat chat. It doesn’t do anything for me and I find it kind of boring and uncomfortable.

In addition to that, I’m not super interested in discussing gaining that isn’t about my own. I’m not a feeder, I’m not an encourager. I don’t really care for mutual gaining either.

4. If you’re under 20 years old, I don’t want to talk to you, sorry.

That’s all for now but I may update this in the future, thank u!

[magic-hcs]

Heyo! I was wondering if you could do a headcanon drabble for bear (and any others you feel inspired to do) where the reader, their s/o has touch aversion, but they (the reader) loves to be squished. I personally have a weighted blanket to help. When the reader is touched by people, mainly disliked persons or someone they don't know they get kinda freaked out but can still hold composure. Often they habe anxiety Stimson where they subconsciously scratch their forearms (that is something I tend to do).The reader doesn't mind if they are the one initiating contact tho. Sorry that was long!! Thank you!!😁😁 drink water and eat food!!!

Hii hiii! Ooo this was very interesting to do! I hope I did it justice, if something isn’t right please let me know and I’ll edit it right away. You don’t need to apologize about the length of the ask, detailed asks help me a lot with what I should include. I too scratch my arms when I’m bordering on a stress meltdown. Drink and eat a lot too! Otherwise I’ll be forced to send Bear and Bean upon you with delicious selfmade food and snacks!

Bear: HT Sans

Let’s cast some magic and see what we’ll get!✨

✨✨

Bear: As we all know, Bear loves to touch and hold you. It isn’t rare for Bear to often pick you up or pet your head or body when you’re in an established relationship. But to get there in the first place you would have to repeatedly tell him you wouldn't mind him initiating physical contact and all that sort of stuff. Because in the beginning, Bear is very unsure and hesitant about his own strength and sharpness. So if you tell him you’re not comfortable when others initiate touch he’ll never never cross that boundary. (or try not to, he sometimes forgets and ends up carefully touching your sleeves or something to get your attention. Please remind him every now and again because he hates it that he keeps forgetting it in the beginning.)

Bear will treasure every touch you give him even more now because they are quite rare. He’ll be a purring mess as you give him a hug. Sometimes you’ll be able to tell when he really, really, really wants to touch you but refrains himself to by the slight twitches in his phalanges which reach out but stop midway. Eyelight looking at you with longing. Sometimes he needs to touch you to make sure you are real so he will ask if he can at least hold your finger or sleeve.

Ohhhhh, you love being squished? After Bear gets more sure and confident that he won’t hurt you he would love to give you a few squishes if you ask for them! Say goodbye to your weighted blanket because you got a way better one with this teddy bear. Because not only can he fulfill your need to be squished this boy can also purr!

Once you voice your displeasure with strangers or people you dislike touching you be ready for Bear glaring down at anyone who dares to make you uncomfortable. He’ll also be checking up on you and asking if you need something.

Bear immediately recognizes that stim. He has this sort of thing too, only he tugs at his dead eye socket instead of his arms. He feels very sad whenever you do it because it means you’re anxious. Bear really wants to know what he can do to help you with this. Once you stop scratching your arms and it looks pretty bad he’ll give you stuff to treat it. Bear wants to take good care of you but he doesn’t know what the best ways are to help you but he really tries.

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction.

[xxwithlovefromfaexx]

@stnaf-vn​ this is part one of my submission for the STNAF: Fanfic contest! I haven’t been writing as regularly as I’d like, so it’s been nice to get into some writing.

Warnings: dead dove, DO NOT EAT, touch starved/touch averse reader, unwanted filming swearing, stalking (cameras), voyeurism is hinted, just Friend ruining a good night by being creepy as hell jaskdbkfb

Notes: I do have a nsfw addition to this, which was what I was originally going to post. But since I’m uncomfortable posting it on tumblr, if you want to read the prt. 2 please message me first! That way I can check your bio before sending the google docs file :)

It had been a while since you indulged yourself in someone else's touch. Not even in a sexual light.

To say you were touch averse, it sounded like the right term. So long without brushing your hand against another's, the days of hugging Friend at the playground were long gone. Perhaps, after your last relationship, you had sealed the deal for yourself.

Reaching out for touch became too awkward, too uncomfortable. The very hairs on the back of your head stood up and trickled an anxious dread down your spine as someone pulled you in for a hug. Even accidental brushes piqued your heartbeat as you apologized profusely, eyes darting for an exit.

And yet, you could feel yourself becoming more and more desperate for it. Ironic, how the one thing you craved more than anything was also the one thing you couldn't stand to bare. You'd cling to your only pillow at night, because it was really the only thing left that kept the pangs of emptiness away. How sad, that you had resorted to living quite like this. If Friend saw you like this...Would he?

No, no...you couldn't put any more of your burdens on Friend. He already does so much for you. It was almost uncomfortable, the lengths he'd go to just to make sure you were happy. If you asked him to hug, to cuddle you...he wouldn't say no, would he? But...you weren't sure you were quite ready for it just yet.

That's why you were here today, with Friend, in the plushie aisle. He seemed upset that you'd buy a plushie rather than let him make one for you, but...walking into a store and buying a life-sized pillow is making your cheeks flush and your head hurt enough. He just had to insist on coming today, the day you'd been working up to, didn't he? 

A mall trip. Just like you used to do, with you dragging a belligerent Friend with you as you watched movies and window shopped until your feet hurt.

“You know, I could make you one of these for free right?” You turned to Friend with a frown.

“I know, but...you already do so much for me. Hell, I have a tone of your plushies all stacked up in my room as is,” not to mention the way they all stared at you...it was kinda creepy, staring into their dark, looming eyes. Like looking into the other side of a camera. You wanted a normal, regular pillow. One that didn't feel like it was eating you with its eyes.

“They aren't even made of good quality material. And for this price? I can make a life sized you for cheaper,” He tutted, gently brushing your hand away from the price tag that you were eyeing up skeptically. You jumped at the contact, retracting your hand quickly as your eyes darted to his in shock before looking away quickly. He pulled his hand back sheepishly, but you couldn't help but notice the hurt that flashed in his eyes.

“Sorry, Friend,” you apologised quickly, looking away. That was uncalled for. And to Friend, of all people! You couldn't help but feel ashamed of just how disgusted you'd become-it was really only an innocent, accidental touch after all. This stuff should be the things that have you blushing over contact, not running for the hills! If you could just...feel okay about it, maybe the contact you so desperately craved wouldn't be so hard to obtain.

Of course, Friend wasn't hearing it.

“Hey, how many times have I told you, don't apologize like that. It was an accident, right? I'll try to be more careful next time,” He gave you a reassuring smile, yet...you couldn't help but remember the hurt in his eyes. Urghhh...maybe you were being stupid, trying to save him the trouble and buying it yourself. You knew you couldn't really afford it; the money you'd been saving up for this could easily be used on more food for the week, or your utilities bill...

“It's fine, Friend. I'm just, not used to that kind of stuff,” It was your turn to be sheepish. He just stood, with his hands crossed. He obviously wasn't budging on this one. Changing the subject before he could pressure you for answers, you tilted your head and rested your index finger on your chin.

“So, say you really wanted to make up for it...you said you could make one life sized plushie for your bestest friend in the whole world, right?” From your peripheral, you could see his steely resolve crack just a little, raising his eyebrow slightly.

“Yeah...?” You turned your gaze to him and gave him a sweet little smile.

“And you know I'll be forever grateful to my bestest friend in the whole wide world if you made it for me, right?” You couldn't contain your grin as the cracks went deeper, and he seemed to think it over for a while.

“Hmmm...forever grateful you say?” He pondered it. His face was sporting a joking grin for you, but his eyes, they held a red glint to them you'd barely seen before, in all the time you've known Friend. You couldn't help but feel unsettled; though you’re sure the most he's capable of is teasing you to absolute abandon at your statement and dragging you to get some of that “death by chocolate” drink he loved so much.

God, what had you gotten yourself into? You just smiled back at him, putting the groan you had on hold. Those drinks gave you a serious stomachache. But even as you are when buying coffee together, you weren't going to let him see you back down. No matter the fate you've just damned yourself to.

“Forever and always, love,” He always throws those sweet nicknames at you. Why not send them back?

That worked. A little too well, judging by the blush he was now sporting. Were those...heart eyes?

“Well, how can a guy like me deny that? I'll make sure to cash in on that gratitude, don't you worry,” You broke your facade to deadpan at the way he so merrily sing-songed that last part of his concession.

“Don't make me think I've made a mistake here, Friend” he just smiled at you and gestured to the stores exit, and you followed him out.

“Don't you worry. I'll be sure to make it something we both enjoy,” He replied with a chuckle to himself. You raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Your eyes had met something you couldn't tear yourself away from, no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh, I know exactly where we're going next,” He turned to look at where you were glancing and groaned.

“A haunted house, really? How great can it be if its shoved into the mall complex here?” You rolled your eyes at Friend's unimpressed stare.

“Come onn, you used to love this stuff! First one to yelp has to buy the other lunch?” He sighed but turned to the haunted house.

“Alright, alright...weren't you the one screaming for me over some stupid actor in a ghoul costume last time?” You glared at him, hurrying to catch up to his strides.

“Hey, no fair! That was genuinely scary!”

---------

When Friend came and dropped off your newest addition to the collection, you couldn't help but jump straight onto the couch, hugging it close. He said he was busy with some orders, so he could only really stay for dinner and then he'd have to go. You couldn't help it; your heart ached at the thought of him leaving so soon.

But you had fun, at least. It was nice to spend time with him, even if it was just to veg out on the couch and eat takeout pizza while you watched your favourite show. You just wish time could go a little slower. If only you could muster up the courage to ask Friend for a cuddle, or at least to feign sleepiness and doze off on his shoulder.

Alas, it was time for Friend to go. You waved him goodbye with a wry smile.

“Don't be a stranger,” You bid him. He raised an eyebrow at your comment, and you could see a cheeky grin forming at your words.

“When am I ever? You wound me,” You deadpan at him as he clutches his heart dramatically.

“Serves you right for holding my remote-control hostage,” You huffed, and he smirked.

“It's not my fault you have terrible taste in TV shows, sweetheart,” You groaned. God, how you regret ever feeling soft for this smug idiot.

“Hey, it's a good show!” He nods his head slowly.

“Uh-huh, yep. What was it called again?” Oh, that's it.

“Good night!” You slammed the door in his face. Heh. That'll show him.

You walked back to the living room, packing away the empty pizza boxes and turning the TV off. You didn't feel like watching anymore Unsettled Mysteries. As soon as you came back into the living room, it left as it something was missing.

You were alone, again.

You wish you could've told Friend to stay, if even for just a little longer. But you didn't want to bother him anymore than you already had. You looked over to the plushie, that sat in the middle of the couch. He'd been slaving over that thing for the past few days. You wondered how he even managed to get any sleep in, carefully sewing and stuffing it together in all that time. Geez, he really was a good friend.

And you'd just slammed your door straight into his face. Shit.

Sighing dramatically, you plopped down and pulled the oversized plushie into your lap. Seriously, this thing was huge. How the hell did he make it so perfect, and fluffy, and big? You pulled out your phone.

Hey, thanks for tonight. And the plushie. It's exactly what I wanted.

You sent the text, hesitantly hovering over your next words.

I hope we can hang out again soon.

No, that just sounded desperate. You only just hung out. And you've been hanging out constantly, to the point that Friend is missing his order deadlines.

Hope the customers aren't too mad with the order delays. godspeed, Friend.

You sent a cute little sticker and threw your phone to the other side of the couch, groaning as you pushed your head into the plushie. After smooshing your face into the plushie and wrapping yourself around the huge thing, you figured it'd be more comfortable in your bed. At least then you could sleep away all your problems with your newest addition to the collection.

Grabbing your phone, you walked into the bedroom and balanced the plushie and your phone in one hand to turn on the light with the other. Your phone buzzed as a message from Friend popped up. Walking to the bed, you sat down and hugged the plushie tight, opening the message.

You sound so formal, I'm not your mum lol.

That asshole-! Another message popped up, before you could take your words back.

No need to thank me, really.

You rolled your eyes. Now who's the one being formal?

You know I'll be there whenever you need me.

You dwelled over that last text, staring at the phone. Maybe you could just ask him to be on call with you while you cuddled your plushie, right? It wouldn't be that bad, and he could still get his orders done...he didn't need to know you'd be in your head, imagining him in your arms instead of another one of his cuddly creations.

The vibration of your phone jumped you out of your thoughts.

Sweet dreams, sweetheart <3

How did he know...? Ugh, never mind. You sent him a heart back, that's all he gets for such a cheesy exit line. Dropping your phone by the other side of the bed, you rolled over to your side. Your newest plushie, Friend 2.0 (you'd decided), squished even closer to your side.

You found yourself staring deep into those doll eyes. You could never tell Friend, but it had always unsettled you, the eery stare his plushies gave you as you went about your day, It felt like, like they were...watching you. It sounded stupid. So, so stupid. But the more you gazed into its eyes, the harder you looked...

The eyes were dark, black, just like any other teddy bear eyes. Only, the pupils on this one looked strikingly familiar, right in the middle. Maybe that was a trademark of Friend's creations? You'd always been too creeped out to look closely at the plushies. No, these ones looked a little different. They were reflecting you. And if you peered closely, you could see through the dark iris and in the middle, there, right where the pupil should be there was a...lens?

Was that really a lens?

No, no, it couldn't be.

You reached for your phone, frantically flipping it over to inspect the camera lens of your phone.

Then you looked to the plushies eyes, staring right back at you.

Then back to the phone.

They were almost...identical.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, no, no, no.

Your stomach fell to your feet. You felt like puking.

Or maybe, you felt like running out of the bedroom and out of your apartment and out of your town.

Maybe it was Friend's supplier? Maybe Friend simply didn't know?

But Friend made these, just for you. He'd sewn each of these eyes in with loving care. He did with all of the plushies he gave you, just like he’d remind you.

Sewing each, and every hidden camera into the plushies, your plushies, each with loving care.

[leviathism]

leviathan x gn reader;; shitty levi

It made him upset when you pulled away from his touches.

Leviathan had never been a touchy person. He had always been averse to touch, no matter who it was with. He’d only really tolerate it from Asmo or Mammon and he’d rarely ever be the one to initiate it.

So when you had quickly left him after he tried to hold your hand and sit close by you, he had been angry, sad, and obviously jealous.

You were probably touchy with all his other brothers. He could already imagine you snuggling up to Asmodeus at night or helping Mammon after a scary movie or cuddling Satan as you two read a book.

Why couldn’t you two sit close together when playing a game or watching a show? It made his blood boil. So he decided to watch you with his brothers, ready to snap at any moment you touched them.

Before you had seemed normal to him. You were easy to talk to, to rely on, and you never favored one brother over the others. You were perfect. He hated you.

But then he saw his brothers starting to get annoyed with you. How you always leaned away from Mammon when he accidentally blurted out he loved you for the third time that month or when Asmodeus flirted a little too much in a single conversation. When you declined Lucifer’s offer to expensive restaurants and wanted to go to a more deserted and less expensive place.

And how you tore up any magazine wondering who you had a crush on, whether it be Lucifer, Mammon, or Asmodeus. (Or even the forbidden Belphegor? After killing you, could the two of you find love?)

You never answered any questions. When Lucifer asked if you ever wanted anything more, or when Asmodeus asked what you wanted in a relationship. When Mammon tried to make you play 21 questions with him and you always took a shot on all the deeper more risky questions.

Nobody knew anything deeper about you than what your favorite color and hobby was.

Why don’t you like being touched? That’s what Levi wanted to know.

He saw how you would drag Mammon away from expensive watches he could never afford. But then he saw how you’d slip out from under his arm.

He saw how you let Belphie nap on you if he leaned on you after he fell asleep, but when he was awake? You’d quickly find an excuse to leave.

Nobody could put the moves on you. Even when Beelzebub shared his food with you, you were sure to add “bud” to the end of your sentence when you thanked him.

Leviathan was stumped. And still angry. He didn’t care that you didn’t touch any of his brothers. He still wanted to be the exception. He wanted to be the one you would touch and comfort and love.

He was so busy stewing in his negativity in his room that he was startled when someone shook his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” He looked up and saw you and almost screamed. He jumped out of his skin and you had to catch him to make sure he didn’t slide out of his chair. “Whoa!”

“What are you doing here?” He snarled, wrenching your hands off of him. You dutifully withdrew your hands, staring at him shocked. How dare you be shocked. He almost exploded. He felt like Satan.

“You didn’t answer my texts. And you kept staring at me for the past week, dude. It’s kinda scary.” He’d show you scary. He huffed and looked away, crossing his arms to show how serious he was being. How stone cold he could be. You didn’t want anything to do with him? Fine.

“…”

You uncomfortably shifted, stepping away from his chair. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t answer and instead finally looked at you to glare at you.

You faltered, obviously not expecting that look from him. “Um, I’ll come back later. Bye.”

You were so quick to leave, shutting his door firmly behind you. Just like how he usually asked you to do. He stayed in his spot for a while. He had wanted you to touch him. You had, but not in the way he wanted. He didn’t know what he wanted.