#they were very small. like two spaghettis

[meowtalhead]

I love when shows try to represent something as being dark or evil by putting animals like spiders or snakes in the scene. It has the opposite of the intended effect on me. No longer registering the seriousness of the plot, I am now simply pleased to be seeing a little guy

[theoldsports]

SPONTANEOUS.

Art Donaldson x Reader

oops. it’s gonna be a series. i’m developing Lore. let me know what you think and where to go next.

warnings: 18+ please, drug use mention, drinking (underage), kinda sexual content.

LINK TO SORRY SERIES

Fancy parties were loathsome. [Y/N] thought so, at least. She hated being told to stop calling them fancy parties and shindigs and to call them by their proper names: galas, benefits, balls, whatever. It was exhausting. Her feet weren’t meant to be elegantly jammed into spike heels. [Y/N] liked the height she was, thank you very much.

Did supporting charitable causes have to feel so degrading?

Capitalism at its finest.

[Y/N] had been attending these things since she was a little girl. Seven or eight years old. So young, in fact, that she now can’t remember what demographic or ailment-research, or political party this goddamn yearly spring shindig was for. Mr. and Mrs. Zweig were always nice to her when she was a child. She wasn’t just a family-friend, she (and her parents) felt like friends that were family.

What made the lavish Zweig parties tolerable was Patrick Zweig. She had known Patrick as long as there had been parties to get dressed up for. He had scraped her off a marbled staircase step as a little girl when her polished pleather mary janes didn’t have the traction to keep her upright. She had cried when she fell. He had said: “you’re really loud, you know that?” And she had laughed. So they were doomed to spend eternity hiding in coat rooms and getting tipsy together at these things.

Patrick was never one of those boys that felt the need to turn his back on [Y/N] during the cooties years, or the so-she’s-your-girlfriend? years. The pair of them always managed to be simply themselves and that was enough. He was merciless and unapologetic, but he made a hell of a best friend.

[Y/N] was two months older than Patrick, and had been taller for their first two years of friendship. When his shift in stature occurred, it happened fast.

Patrick went away to boarding school and came back a gangly beast. [Y/N], though they hadn’t spent every waking moment (weekends and school days) together since he had left her for a racket and a tennis ball, was always pleased to see Patrick was still himself every time he came home. Louder and stupider each time, but still Patrick.

Though, one spring break was different. Eleventh grade, if [Y/N] recalled correctly. Patrick came home, tall and stupid as ever, toting a boy named Art Donaldson.

Art Donaldson was considerably smaller, and debatably less stupid than Patrick Zweig. [Y/N] understood that day why all the girls in her grade giggled about boys. [Y/N] could never tell Patrick that. He would have been insufferable about it.

Actually, [Y/N] felt jealous. That was also a secret. Because Art, unlike she and Patrick, was nice. Everybody liked him. Nobody ever talked shit about him. Adults loved him and his small-town boy manners. He actually was a rambunctious little jerk, but nobody else saw that. Everyone else got yes sir, yes ma’am, I’m well, how are you? He could turn that charm on and off like a faucet. Infuriating, right?

[Y/N] was also jealous because it was clear she had been replaced.

Patrick lit up like a Christmas tree when he was with Art. He never looked at her like that. Art must have been a better friend to him then she was. Patrick called her once a week to talk for years, but Art slept, like, six feet away from him. It simply wasn’t fair.

Because of that, [Y/N] remembers spring break was really hard. [Y/N] was acutely aware she had lost something she didn’t know she could lose to the human version of a fucking beagle.

[Y/N] couldn’t remember the grade they were in exactly, but she did remember the dress she wore to the Zweigs’ party that year. It was light green and had spaghetti straps. It was longer and more form-fitting than what she was used. Most of the girls her age had settled for lots of tulle and cheetah-print so [Y/N] looked more mature by comparison. It was the first time [Y/N] remembered feeling grown up at all.

To think she thought that all her excitement and contentment was wasted. [Y/N] sat in a plastic pool chair in the backyard curled up with her cork wedge platforms resting dangerously close to the water. She nursed a bottle of vodka she had swiped two months ago from her parents liquor cabinet to surprise Patrick. Meticulously, she had waited for them to be out of town and found the key to the liquor cabinet. A whole bottle just for [Y/N] and her best friend. [Y/N] had barely managed to keep it a secret that she had taken it. She had been so proud of herself and thought Patrick would be too.

Now, she was the only one around to drink it.

Patrick had put his warm, familiar hands on her shoulders and told [Y/N] to wait right there and that he and Art would be back in a sec. The two boys had vanished upstairs presumably to Patrick’s room with laughter spilling from their mouths. [Y/N] sat at the base of the stairs alone for twenty minutes.

According to the garish clock on the wall, at twenty-one minutes, [Y/N] disappeared to the pool. She officially hated Patrick too. He had left her alone at parties plenty of times, and she him. They’d dance with others, or sneak off for a makeout session with a pretty stranger. It had never been a big deal either way. This felt like deliberate abandonment for no good reason. That was a first.

“Whoa, save some for the rest of us.” A reedy voice called out. Art Donaldson. [Y/N]’s head glanced over her shoulder so fast at the sound that she almost made herself dizzy. It took little time to realize there was no Patrick with him.

[Y/N] pulled the bottle closer. “That was a really long one sec,” She replied. She planned to say that eventually in the wasted minutes she waited, but it sounded less cool now than it did in her head. [Y/N] sounded plain mopey and that was a shame. “What’d you guys do anyway? Where’s Patrick?”

Art shrugged and walked further into view. He looked a bit sheepish. “Being Patrick,” He didn’t answer the first question she asked. There was a half-smile tugging at his lips. Art looked nice. Brown dress shoes, navy jacket, white shirt. No tie. She could have sworn that had been a tie at some point earlier. His shaggy blonde hair was mussed, but she had yet to observe it being neat. It was fustrating how effortlessly nice he looked. [Y/N] thought that everyday from day one. “It’s getting kinda cold. You wanna head back inside? I was looking for you—“

“I’m alright here, but thanks,” she slurred slightly. “You head in. I’m not here to ruin your fun.” It had sounded bitter. She hadn’t meant for it to.

Art sighed and glanced away from her. He paused a moment and sighed. “I’m not here to ruin yours either, y’know.”

“You don’t have to make this into a thing. It’s fine.”

“Well, too late. Patrick’s being an ass. I don’t want you out here feeling like I’m some homewrecker. I’ve been on the receiving end of shit like this from him, too. He’s not trying to be nasty to you, ‘promise. Come on, I’m not gonna let you freeze out here.” Art said, stepping in a bit. The glow from the pool left green and white wiggly lines across his cheeks.

“It’s spring, It’ll warm up. Get back up to that party, man. Patrick’s waiting for you.”

“You’re being impossible.”

[Y/N] set the half-empty bottle down beneath her chair. “Nuh-uh.”

“Jesus… if you’re gonna be a jerk about it, at least take this.” Art frowned, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He seemed disappointed.

“Oh, Art, please—“

“No, no! You made your choice. Don’t let me spoil your fun with you and the… the vodka,” Art said, making a show of taking the jacket off and throwing it over to [Y/N]. The balled up lump of fabric landed in her lap with a soft thud. Her stomach churned. “All hunky dory now,” He said, holding his hands out to show he was no threat. Art’s brows were lowered protectively close to his eyes in what [Y/N] thought was an effort to mask slight hurt or rejection. He turned to walk away as [Y/N] clutched the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. Art turned back to to look at her for a moment. [Y/N] didn’t know what that expression was meant to mean. “Be careful, okay? For what it’s worth, you—you look lovely tonight. It would be a shame for such a, uh, such a pretty girl in a pretty dress to end up face down, stuck in the pool drain. ‘Night [Y/N].”

[Y/N] was glad for the dark because she felt her face heat up and dopey smile start to form at the compliment. Maybe she was drunk, but that had to be flirting. In the most fucked up way possible, but still. Why? Art Donaldson didn’t even like her.

Art had only managed to take a few steps into the dewy grass when [Y/N] begrudgingly called out: “Art, wait!”

She hated that she liked the smirk on his face when he turned around. He could tell what she wanted by her tone. What kind of fucker takes no for answer happily and still sets himself up for a yes in the end. “Yes?” He asked, trying not to smile.

“Listen, you’re right—“ [Y/N] stood up confidently, sliding Art’s jacket around her shoulders. And she stood up too fast and knocked her sandals into the pool. “Shit!” She cursed. She was still an age where cursing felt cool and unfamiliar. [Y/N] stood on her unsteady feet and watched her sandals bob out to the middle of the pool, propelled by her kick. She was embarrassed now as well. The stakes of everything felt so much higher than sandals in the pool of her best friend’s backyard. Booze will do that to the sanest of folks. [Y/N] dropped her face heavily into her hands. Great.

Quickly, Art cut his eyes between her and the shoes and back again. “Where do they keep the pool net?” Art asked calmly, without missing a beat.

“The shed.” [Y/N] said miserably and pointed a few feet away. Art bounded across the pavement around the pool to the shed. He tugged once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “It’s locked,” He reported to [Y/N] from practically halfway in the pruned hedges. Art started the walk back to her. Once he was beside her, Art placed a hand gently at her elbow. “Come back inside with me. Please. Patrick may be able to get us a key and we can…”

But [Y/N] looked so sad from behind her hands. Even though all of this was so childish. She was also wearing Art’s jacket now and that did things to his brain. Her dress wasn’t not low cut and he froze for a second. All he could do was stare.

“Just do what I would do,” Patrick said. “It’ll be fine, man. She’s already into you, I can tell.”

“Well, if she’s into me, why would I do what you would do? That’s an awful suggestion, Patrick.” Art protested.

Patrick spun around in his desk chair to face Art as he rolled a joint. “I’ve known her since before I knew you. Just, like, be spontaneous. That’s what I mean. Spontaneous. She’s into that because she’s like that too. And she’s… wicked mean, so don’t start shit. She’ll surprise you, but like, in a good way. What I said before makes me sound like a jackass,” Patrick paused to laugh. “Be in the moment. Don’t get in your head about it. Which you’re doing right now— I can tell, Arthur…” Patrick drew out Art’s full name (which he hated) to get under his skin.

Art stood up from the floor in frustration. He glanced at his watch. Too much time had passed. The window was metaphorically closing. Hastily, Art dashed to the door. “I’m going down there. Poor girl’s been waiting all this time because you, my friend, are a shitty advice-giver.”

“Spontaneous!” Patrick called after him with a grin.

Art stared at [Y/N]. Then he blinked. Then tilted his head to the side. Spontaneous. Before he knew it, he was tugging his shoes and socks off and diving into the pool. Art had been right, it was getting decisively cold and the pool water reflected that. Art swam out to where the wedges had floated too, which had actually been fairly far. He wasn’t sure if the net would have gotten them that easily. Art nicked the shoes by the ankle straps and shook his wet hair out of his face. As he paddled back, he glanced at [Y/N]’s expression. She smiled wide with joy and surprise at Art’s sacrifice.

“Art! Thank you so much!” She said when he flopped the waterlogged shoes onto the concrete. Art looked up at her from the water and he only looked up her skirt a little bit.

“It’s no trouble. Repayment’s in order, though.”

“Repayment…? What do you—“

Art wrapped his wet, callused hands around both of [Y/N] ankles and flipped her into the pool. She screamed as she splashed into the pool. Then laughed hard. Art wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.

“Wait, fuck, you can swim, right?”

Fortunately, [Y/N] could, and that’s the move that won Art Donaldson his wife.

—

“Honey, you have to get up so you can get ready…” Art’s mouth moved against the shell of [Y/N]’s left ear. His arm was tossed over her middle. Normally, it was Art that dreaded getting out of bed, but clearly they enjoyed switching roles once in a while.

A nap had turned into two-and-a-half hours of [Y/N]’s soft snores while Art held her. He couldn’t sleep much, but luckily he had something beautiful to look at. She ripped into him about his staring problem all the time. Art couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. “No.” She mumbled.

“Please…” Art’s hand trailed under her shirt and climbed up, up, up.

“No,” she sighed. Art’s hands groped her left breast and [Y/N] didn’t particularly mind. She shivered at the contact. Art had known every inch of her body over years. Neither was bored yet, though.

“It’s one night. One party. We don’t have to stay all night… He’s not going to be there, Lenora told me when I RSVP’d.”

They had an unspoken rule. They did not name Patrick in conversation when sober. The wound was too fresh still.

“Don’t talk about him, or his fucking mom when you’re touching me like that,” [Y/N] all but moaned as Art’s left thumb circled her nipple. “‘Thought we had to get up…”

Art smirked. “We do. At least you’re awake now.” He teasingly withdrew his hand entirely from out of her shirt and scampered out of bed in one agile zip of a motion.

“Art!”

She groaned. Rolling on her back to look at the ceiling, she glanced over at Art walking through the master bathroom doorway in his briefs. What an incredible ass that man has. “Motivation to leave the party early.” Art said and popped off into the shower.

Maybe it was selfish. Patrick and [Y/N] and Art hadn’t spoken in almost a year. It was no surprise to the Donaldsons that Patrick was an addict. He had been addicted to almost everything and everyone that crossed his path. What they hadn’t expected was him becoming so out of control that he missed the wedding of his two best friends and was sent into rehab once he was declared medically stable. The one person that both Donaldsons had fought to have in their own personal half of the wedding party. And he wasn’t there. And the wedding was expensive enough to go through with it amid all the bad feelings over Patrick.

Still, they were invited to the Zweig family’s charity or whatever gala. They would go like they always had, too. But it would be their first time alone, so to speak.

[Y/N] regretfully got out of bed while Art showered. She moved to the closet and unzipped her paper thin dress bag. The gown itself was beautiful, but not all too expensive. The year had been tight in terms of money. The wedding and the honeymoon were pricey enough before you added in rackets and competition entry fees and coaching. Art was an expensive husband to have. He made up for it. He was playing at his best too, so [Y/N] hardly cared. Who could put a price on seeing Art smile like that?

[Y/N] cringed if she had to pay more than two-hundred dollars for shoes or a dress anyway.

The dress was green. She’d worn a lot of green since she met Art. [Y/N] dreaded wiggling into shapewear and spending too long on her hair. Art had it easy. A tie, a jacket and trading his nasty watch for his nicer one. It wasn’t fair. It never was with Art.

She got ready all the same. The straps rested on her shoulders, thicker than the early 2000s straps she had been dumped into the pool in. It was longer than that dress. Almost floor length instead of mid calf. It was elegant for its price tag.

Once the dress was on, [Y/N] tumbled into the bathroom to do her makeup. The shared counter was way too small for both of their shit to sit nicely on. She would complain about that when there was more money in the bank account to do something about it. Art was taking longer than normal in the shower. Boner, [Y/N] thought.

As she started to put her face on, she could see Art’s face in the foggy mirror behind her. The sound of the water stopping and the shower curtain being tossed back had gone unnoticed. He was smiling slightly. “You look nice.” He said softly. Art toweled off his shaggy hair harshly behind her. He kept looking at her.

This is how Art was. He made these remarkable heart eyes at her every time he saw her. [Y/N] could be wearing a potato sack and she would feel beautiful. That look, that staring problem, was worse a hundredfold when she was dressed up. He kept glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror. He wanted [Y/N] to see. The blue and brown of his eyes cast further and further down her body.

“Staring.” [Y/N] said simply. She didn’t even look away from her own face in the mirror.

“Yeah. And?” Art smiled cheekily. His face was bright red not from the warm shower water. He wrapped his towel around his slim waist. [Y/N] applied too much concealer and less blush. “I, of all people, am allowed.”

“Idiot.” [Y/N] said. Art dried his hands profusely on his towel, knowing she would squawk at him if he left wet handprints behind on her dress.

Art’s hands wrapped around her waist. Great pains were taken to prevent other wet spots from splopping up her dress. So, so gently, he kissed the left side of her neck from behind. “I was thinking—” Art was always gentle in his own way.

“Ooh, dangerous.”

“Shut up. Y’know, this is the first Zweig party where your placecard is going to say Donaldson on it…”

[Y/N] nodded softly. “Huh. Yeah. That’s true.” She said, smiling a bit.

“I’m really, really excited about that. On the seating chart, we’re the Donaldsons. Isn’t that so crazy…?” Art whispered into her plush skin. “Plural. Two of us.”

Teasingly, she nudged him back with her elbow. The smile was still wide on her lips. “You’re being such a girl about it.”

Art didn’t let go or relent. He pressed feather-light kisses between [Y/N]’s ear and collarbone. “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re going to be late to this thing you want to go to so bad, Mr. Donaldson, if you don’t stop.” [Y/N] whispered, incapable of doing more. She did set down her makeup sponge and pot of foundation with a clack.

“Would that be such a bad thing? Only a couple minutes, right? We could-we could cut out some of the boring small talk and…” Art said, daring boldly to drag his tongue up her throat as the steamed up mirror cleared some. He never finished his sentence verbally.

[Y/N] gasped at the feeling. That was a brave move for Art. “You drag me out of bed early so we can be late anyway. You don’t make any s-sense, babe.”

He huffed impishly. Art spun [Y/N] around to face him. His face and shoulders were damp from the water collected in his hair, which desperately needed a trim. Carefully, Art brushed [Y/N]’s hair away from her face. “You’re right… I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you?”

“How?”

Then, Art’s mouth quirked into that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Please.” Art said in a hushed voice and boosted [Y/N] smoothly onto their rickety counter. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You can do better than ten.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Clock’s ticking.” When she said it, she heard Art’s knees hit the tile in front of her.

[murdrdocs]

I've been thinking non stop about Mike liking Abby's new daycare teacher but is too shy to do anything so Abby just casually mentions that her big brother has a crush on you and is doing weird things like checking his hair and only wearing the same pants two days in a row instead of four. So when u spill that Abby told u he doesn't know whether to be mad at her or not bc if ur wasn't for her he would have a date

I LOVEE THESE TYPES OF THINGS GN! READER

you’re sweet, patient, professional while managing to slip in some casualness to the conversations that you and mike have (short and cordial always) that make him feel like you’re more of an acquaintance and not just someone he indirectly pays.

you’re young, around his age he assumes, and he confirms his assumptions when he’s questioning abby.

“your, uh, new teacher,” he starts as he’s finishing up dinner (spaghetti again).

abby hums from behind him. “what about them?” mike turns to glance at his sister who sits on the counter, her feet thudding against the cheap cabinets with the way she kicks them.

he turns back to the stove, shrugging and scratching at his ear. “nothing i was just wondering about them. like … are they … cool?”

and mike is so glad that abby has always been the more talkative one out of the two of them because she’s immediately thrusting herself into an analysis of your quirks and how you really care about the children.

long story short, abby likes you just as much as mike does. even more, actually.

she’s always running to hug you when mike drops her off and picks her up, and he distantly wishes he could do the same. he thinks he’s playing it cool, sending you tight lipped smiles and waves that are a little too disjointed.

but abby is more perceptive than he thinks.

each time he tells himself he’s going to have an actual conversation with you. maybe mention the band tee you wear on a casual friday or ask about the song you were humming before he’d arrived. there’s intentions for him to get to know you and eventually ask you out.

but he backs out each time.

leaving abby to play matchmaker.

when mike comes in one thursday afternoon, hoodie soaked from the thunderstorm outside, he greets you and notices that your smile is a little more bashful than usual. abby is running around with her friends inside, playing an intense game of indoor freeze tag, and mike is trying to get her attention but you stop him.

“they can play for a while longer. i couldn’t let both of you go out in that storm.”

he looks out the window and notices that somehow, it’d gotten stronger.

“uh, do you want something hot to drink? hot chocolate? tea? coffee?” you sound shy, maybe, but mike can't figure out why.

he's just grateful for a chance to spend time alone with you.

“coffee would be great, actually.”

you and mike end up in the kitchen of the small cafeteria, each drinking your respective drinks in silence, until you speak.

“um, i hope i’m not overstepping.” mikes ears perk up because that’s never a good start. “but abby told me that you have a crush on me. is that true?”

fucking abby.

his ears redden immediately, head dropping as he considers how to play this. but before he can even decide, you’re speaking again.

“because if so, i just want to let you know that i feel the same.”

he lifts his head too quick, a little bit of his coffee spilling out of the loaned mug with the movement. he doesn’t care about that, though, at least not immediately. instead, he focuses on you. he searches your face for a joking smile, maybe a little bit of mischief in your eyes. but there’s nothing but honesty in them.

he takes the plunge.

“would you wanna do something … sometime?” not very descriptive but you smile at him anyway.

“i would love to.”

god bless abby.

[veryberryjelly]

hold on

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary : reader reveals to carmen that she has a hard relationship with food.

a/n ; content warnings for disordered eating, throwing up, talks of disordered eating. i am not romanticising eating disorders !! loooong boy. 1.2k words

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆���𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

you never thought this would have been an issue.

you had never been in a relationship long enough for it to be important.

but 3 months.

you had to tell him.

but you had no idea where to start with admitting it.

somehow in the three months of dating carmen you had managed to avoid any conversation relating to your issues.

you had been out to dinner a few times, but every time you managed to find something easy or small.

and if you weren't able to do that, you had gotten good at making a plate look like you had eaten some if not most of it.

the issue only really came to a head when you had arranged to stay over at carmen's place after he cooked for the both of you.

you had been stressing over it for the last two days about something so simple as him cooking for you.

along with his insistence to keep it a secret what he was making, you were getting anxious about it.

your anxiety riddled mind was quietened when carmen opened the door to his apartment and your eyes met his.

the soft, relaxed smile on his lips mirrored onto your own.

" hey sweetheart, come in. dinner shouldn't be too long, just finishing up "

the mention of food brought almost all of your anxiety back.

you shut the door behind you as you walked in, setting your bag down on his couch as you headed towards the kitchen.

" gonna tell me what you're making yet ?" you questioned, keeping your voice level as you leant against the counter.

you could spot a few elements of the meal carmen was making, but none that would tell you what he was making.

you were almost relieved to spot a salad on the counter.

you might be able to get through this meal without feeling the urge to throw up.

" spaghetti bolognese "

two words that had your stomach falling.

carbs were very hard for you, but you couldn't not eat what carmen had cooked for you.

you took a slightly shuddering breath which was thankfully hidden from carmen as he tended to his sauce.

" sounds delicious "

thankfully, both of you talked through most of dinner, and it wasn't out of place for your fork to just rearrange your food instead of pick it up and eat it.

the few bites that you did take were mostly salad, apart from two initial bites of the pasta when you first sat down, which was hard to swallow.

after dinner you offered to do the dishes, practically insisting. you didn't want carmen to see how little of his food you had eaten.

he wouldn't let you do it all on your own and offered to at least dry up after you.

he didn't see the amount of food from your plate that ended up in the trash.

you definitely felt guilty about throwing it away, but you couldn't physically stomach the food or telling him after he made so much effort.

after you finished cleaning up the two of you were quick to retire to the couch for a movie.

carmen's arm wrapped around your shoulders and the steady beating of his heart underneath your ear wasn't enough to erase the burning feeling in your stomach or the gags you could feel climbing up your throat.

it got to the point where you couldn't take it anymore.

you muttered a quick excuse before rushing towards the bathroom.

you should've known that carmen would be hot on your heels the moment he heard you emptying your guts into the toilet.

you heard his voice behind you muttering a short string of curses when he opened the door.

the next thing you knew, his hands were swiftly collecting your hair from the base of your neck to keep it from getting messy.

after you had nothing more to give, you flushed the toilet and leant back to move away from it, only to be met with the solid feeling of carmen's chest against your back.

" 'm sorry. didn't mean to ruin your night " you muttered quietly, your eyes not lifting from your lap.

" baby, you didn't ruin anything. just want you to tell me why you're throwin' up after you barely ate anything "

a shiver of dread raced down your spine.

" thought maybe you just didn't like the food but now i'm thinking that something's wrong "

his voice was warm and comforting even if what he was saying was chilling you to your bones.

you had to tell him.

you began twisting the towel that carmy had handed you in your hands.

" what's going on, baby ?" he questioned, his hand lifting to brush some hair behind your ear as he dropped his head down onto your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss onto the fabric of your sweater.

you were silent for a few minutes, but carmen never pushed you to speak, only waited until you were ready.

" there's something wrong with me carmen... i- i hate feeling full. i can't eat like a normal person. i don't- " a sob wracked through your chest as you spoke.

carmen's arms wrapped tighter around you as tears began falling down your cheeks.

he held you there until the tears stopped, and even a little bit longer.

when he finally stood from the floor and walked out of the bathroom you thought he was done.

that he didn't want to deal with a girlfriend with these kids of issues, especially as a chef.

but when he returned a few moments later with your pyjamas and your toothbrush all of those feelings disappeared.

he delivered them to you with a kiss to your temple before he was back out again.

you didn't question him, or say anything, just brushed your teeth and washed your face before changing into your pyjamas, a pair of long pants and a t-shirt that carmen had given to you with 'the beef' logo on your chest.

after folding up your other clothes you padded out into his living room, keeping your head down as you put your clothes in your bag.

but you couldn't avoid it any longer.

you found carmen in the kitchen pouring hot water into two mugs from his cabinet.

you were only sat down for a moment before he came over with both mugs in his hand and slid one towards you.

chamomile.

your hands wrapped around the warm receptacle.

there were a few moments of silence before you heard the voice you found so much comfort in.

" why didn't you tell me ? " he questioned, his voice the farthest thing from accusational.

" didn't want to scare you off. most people go running when they find out. wanted to hold on a little bit longer " your voice was nothing more than a whisper and your eyes were burning into the mug of tea in your hands.

carmen wasted no time in moving around the counter to stand beside you, his hand moving to tilt your chin up and bring your gaze towards him.

" i'm not goin' anywhere, baby. but you gotta let me help. "

his thumb began moving against your cheekbone, and that simple action was all you needed before you wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face into his t-shirt. his arms held you close to his chest.

" could you give me a ride to my therapists tomorrow ? "

" anything, baby "

[whxtedreams]

Cookies as Payment

Inspired by:

i'd be lying if i said  you make me speechless the truth is you make my tongue so weak it forgets  what language to speak in  - by rupi kaur (milk and honey - page 61)

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: neighbour!joel x reader

Tags: no outbreak, fluff, baking, kissing, first kiss (with Joel), just wanna rip my heart out kind of fluff.

part two: eyes on me darlin’

Notes

little thank you to @janaispunk for tagging me in the pinterest moodboard game and therefore making me sit on pinterest for an hour looking at cookies to bake and then write this. Thinking of making this a small series. Just small scenes losely based around rupi kaur poety as I read through their books.

You didn’t expect it. Truth be told, you’re positive he didn’t plan it either. There’s so much you didn’t expect to happen between you and your neighbour, and knowing how soft his lips are was definitely not on your bingo card.   

The house smells divine, a tantalising blend of vanilla and chocolate filling the air, the sweet scent mixing with the smooth jazz playing from the record player. The atmosphere is cosy and welcoming, blending all the perfect ingredients for an afternoon with Joel as he works outside on another one of your projects.

He walks through the kitchen door, his nose leading him to you while you pull the slightly browned cookies from the oven. Your back is to him as you place the tray on the counter to continue cooking as they cool.

“They smell amazing.” Joel hums as he reaches over you for one. 

“They’re not ready yet, they’re still cooking as they cool.” You swat his hand away with the oven mitt, scolding him for almost touching them.

“But they smell too good.” 

You softly shove him as his hand reaches for the cookies again. You turn to face him then, arms crossed over your chest as you lean against the counter. His wired headphones dangle over his shoulders, blending into his plain white tee, his jacket discarded in the early afternoon from the Texas heat.

“I could smell ‘em from all the way outside, got me droolin’ out there.” He huffs a soft laugh as he brings his hands up in false defence, moving back from the cookies. “I’ve been tellin’ ya to start sellin’ them, make a fortune.” He points at you then before pushing himself to sit on the unused side of the counter. 

You open your mouth to say something but shrug instead, your hands focusing on the small fabric strands at your sleeves. He’s mentioned this a few times, every time he tries something you cook he ends up showering you with compliments. It’s sweet, how much he likes your baking and cooking and you have considered selling what you make but the idea terrifies you. Having someone pay for what you make, you’d rather just gift them to friends and family.

The first time you cooked for him, he almost begged you to help him cook for Sarah’s birthday the following week. You didn’t believe him when he told you he was a terrible cook. He ended up cooking for you that night to prove you wrong and after he made you spaghetti, you thought it would be better if he just stuck to prepping while you did the rest of the work for Sarah’s birthday dinner. You didn’t think someone could mess up spaghetti that badly, you were proven very wrong.

It’s been a few months since you moved in next door to Joel and it took him no longer than a week to start offering help in renovating. Took two weeks before he started coming over without the excuse of helping out and just wanting to hang out. 

It’s been nice, the constant company that doesn’t feel like you’re suffocating your own social battery. It’s the easy, effortless conversations that instead fill your social battery instead of draining it like others tend to do. There have been nights where nothing is said for hours, each just bathing in each other's company as you each do your own little hobbies, not demanding attention. 

There’s been times where you’re so stuck in your book you forget Joel is sitting across the room, tools in his hands as he carves away at another design. It’s not until he walks over to show you that you get the fright of your life, forgetting that you’re not alone.  

You fall into another easy conversation as Joel impatiently waits for the cookies to be ready. He updates you on the bench he’s building for your patio, and you get lost in how passionate he becomes when he talks about his job. His hands start moving the more he talks, the corner of his mouth twitching as he explains how he overcame something when it wasn’t quite working the way he wanted it to. 

You could listen to him for hours. You have listened to him for hours. 

You offered to pay him of course, but he said a batch of cookies was more than enough payment.

You make him coffee as he talks, already knowing how he likes it due to the amount of times he’s ended up over at your house in the mornings while his daughter Sarah had a house full of teenage girls over. He’d stumble over half awake and plant his face on the counter as he waits for the coffee to brew, his hair a mess and clothes crumbled. Hard to sleep when they stay up all night fuckin’ laughin and playing games. As much as he complains about it, you know he loves that his daughter ended up with a nice group of friends, even if they keep him up all night. 

You pour his coffee and he takes it as he mentions he’s almost finished outside. He’s rambling now and you’re half listening as you place a few cookies on a plate. His eyes light up and he shuts up as you turn back around with the cookies. This time you don’t swat his hand away as he takes one. 

His eyes close as he takes a bite and you smile, knowing that you made him happy. “So fuckin good.” he mumbles with a mouth full. 

You’re standing in front of him when he opens his eyes, and you can’t seem to read his face as you smile up at him. His eyes seep into you and it lingers on your skin as his eyes flicker down to your lips. The room goes quiet besides the music in the background. 

And then he puts his coffee down along with the cookie, his hands reaching for the sleeves of your dress. Your heart is in your throat by the time he pulls you between his thighs, one hand on your wrist while the other rests at the back of your neck. 

Your smile is gone, eyes wide as his own burn into yours. Then his hand on your neck ever so slowly pulls you in, giving you time to move away. You don’t. 

The first press of his lips on yours steals the air from your lungs and leaves you completely breathless, completely entranced by the sensation of his touch. Your muscles loosen, your mind clears, and any sense of tension in your body disappears. You feel like putty in his hands, every ounce of your trust and affection poured into this single moment. He could do anything he wishes, and you would simply allow it. 

His lips are soft and comforting, the stubble a welcomed contrast as they move over yours again and again. There's a sweet and sensual feeling in the air, the connection between you both being amplified with every kiss.     

His hand trails up the back of your neck and into your hair, his fingers lacing themselves through the strands and pulling a deep sigh from you. The tender, intimate touch is causing you to melt, your body and mind slowly responding to his touch. The feel of his hand in your hair is both soothing and stimulating, drawing out a shiver from you.

He pulls away all too soon, leaving you wanting more. He holds you close, his warm breath fanning over your face as he looks into your eyes. You can see the smile slowly settling on his face as he sees your gaze, the longer he looks down at you the more his smile seems to grow. 

“I think you taste better.” He confesses in a whisper, his hand leaves your wrist and settles at the small of your back. 

You try to speak, but the words keep failing to escape your lips. You want to say so much, but there are so many thoughts and feelings racing through your mind that you can't translate them into words. It makes your tongue tired as it struggles to say how you feel, as if your feelings have completely filled your brain and left it with nothing left to speak.

At your lack of response, Joel's smile widens and his lips move down to kiss you once again, this time with even more tenderness and affection. The touch of his lips on yours is soft and gentle, sending an intoxicating sense of joy and comfort that sweeps through you. As his lips move over yours, brushing over them in a sweet and sensual way, you can feel yourself falling further into his arms.

And you think that maybe, you like the taste of your cookies better on his lips as he kisses you. The lingering flavours of vanilla and chocolate seem to blend perfectly with his mouth, as if designed to perfectly complement each other.

[pixiesfz]

mother’s day s.c x child!reader

apart of sunshine series

plot: you first call Steph mum on Mother’s Day

warning: fluff

Some of the girls still wondered as to why you hadn’t called Steph your mum yet, it had now been almost a year since your adoption and yet you still called her “Steph” or “Stephy”.

But you called her teammates your aunties, not Kyra though she had come around so often that you thought of her as a sister, she reminded you of Lara before she was stuck to her bed in the hospital room.

You had never really thought of labelling Steph as your mother, she was always just Stephy to you and that’s what she was to Lara.

You were still trying to adjust to the fact that she was gone.

Kyra somehow was allowed to babysit you one night as Steph was out on a ‘date’ but you didn’t really know what that meant so you shrugged it off.

You and Kyra were eating spaghetti Steph pre-made before the older girl opened her mouth.

“You know sunshine, Mother’s Day is coming up” she told you and you looked up to the girl who was looking hesitant “Mother’s Day was earlier in the year Kywa”

She shook her head “Well Stephy’s Australian so we celebrate on a different date” she explained and you looked down.

“Is that like a birthday?” You ask and the 22 year old laughed “no it’s a day where we celebrate our mums and what they do for us kids” she explained

You furrowed your eyebrows “The boys at my school say Steph isn’t my mum because she didn’t push me out of her belly” you say, crossing your arms as Kyra gasped

“A mum doesn’t have to the one who gives birth to you, a mum can be someone you trust completely and looks after you”

“Steph does that” you pointed out “yes she does” Kyra smiled before you went back to your spaghetti, thinking.

Kyra flinched when you jumped on your chair

“We should make Stephy a present!”

Kyra raised her brows at your eagerness but nodded anyways “I agree!”

You told Kyra your idea before going to bed with a smile, having to do a few laps around the house before you grew tired, a trick Harper taught you at camp.

When Steph arrived and saw you sleeping in your bed with Kyra asleep on a blanket and cushion next to you she laughed softly and took a picture.

It was at training the next day that you ran to Kyra who had an extra bag to bring and a “foot injury” she had to check out.

“You two are glued to the hip now” Steph pouted when you excitedly ran to the girl “She’s my sister!” You cheered and Alessia smirked “sunshine?, if she’s your sister then what is Steph?”

You furrowed your brows “Steph is my Stephy” you explained like it was the simplest answer before running away, bringing a ‘limping’ Kyra with you.

“You don’t need to try, Less she’s never had a mum she doesn’t really know the understanding of it all, I won’t force her to call me that” Steph said to her friend who meant the best.

Whilst it seemed a little darker on the field you and Kyra were giggling and doodling posters that you were making for Steph.

Today was Australian Mother’s Day and you wanted to make it special.

Steph was your mum, you realised that now.

“What does yours say?” Kyra asked and you showed her your very glittery sign that read ‘luv you mummy’

“What does yours say?” You ask and Kyra excitedly turned hers around that said ‘not just a team mum’.

“What does that mean?” You ask and she crossed her head “you’ll find out later in life”

Kyra finally brought out your last request which was a charm bracelet with the initials of yours and Lara’s names.

“Why’d you choose this?” Kyra asked and you smiled “because Scarlett at schools mum has a necklace just like it, she showed me it was cool” you smiled and Kyra nodded.

When training came to an end the two of you found yourselves quickly cleaning up your stations before running to the change rooms where you both posed with your posters as the girls came in.

Small gasps and ‘aw’s’ were heard before finally Steph walked in.

Your smile dropped as tears took over her face.

“Mummy don’t cry!” You yelled but it only made it worse as she let out a sob.

“Mummy!” You yelled out, giving your poster to Kyra who was smiling proudly before running over to Steph.

“Oh sunshine” she smiled before bringing you into a big hug

“Happy Mother’s Day Steph” Kyra yelled from her spot, grabbing the present with the bracelet inside and walking over, passing it to her.

“Thank-thankyou Kyra” she told her with a now blotchy face and Kyra scratched your head “all her idea”.

You lifted your face from your mums shoulder “Aussie mummy day!” You cheered and the girls in the room laughed.

“I think we should go out for a nice dinner Sunshine and open my present together, how does that feel” she said, feeling embarrassed that her teammates where seeing her this vulnerable.

“Okay mummy”

[neochan]

GOLDEN HOUR (M)

PAIRING | mean dom!mark x reader ft. hyuck (briefly)

SYNOPSIS | the kitchen isn't for cooking, didn't you know?

WC | 1.8k

WARNINGS | oral fem receiving, cocky!mark, jealous!mark, some golden hour inspired dialogue, kitchen sex (a bit)

A.N | i haven't posted anything in a while but after the concert (and the release of his song) i needed to write about him <3 send feedback, and enjoy

the kitchen counter digs into the skin of your back but you don't even notice. all your thoughts are directed to the lips suckling your clit. hands push at your legs, grabbing and pulling the soft flesh apart so he can taste more of you.

"m-mark, fuck. thats- that's good, just like that."

from on his knees, your boyfriend looks up at you, tongue still swirling around your clit. he hums something sweet and the vibrations send you into a frenzy.

clutching the back of his head, you thread your fingers in his long, black hair and tug him closer. he can't go anywhere so really you just end up rocking your hips into his jaw.

he doesn't mind because fuck, you taste so good. so fucking good, and it's all his - you're all his. no one else can have you. not even that boy haechan. the one who's always trying to hang out with you. the one that's currently on his way over to you and marks shared apartment.

the food you were cooking for the three of you is left on the stove, all but forgotten thanks to your boyfriend.

you didn't even have time to greet him when he opened the front door. he immediately made a beeline for you after dropping his bags on the kitchen table.

sweet lips attached themselves to your neck, dark bruises blooming in their wake. his hands were urgent, needy - desperately pulling at the large sweater covering your frame from his greedy eyes.

"let me taste you." he had asked, dropping to his knees and pressing his fingers to your panties.

you had dropped the spoon back into the pot of spaghetti sauce, "right here?"

his eyes never left yours, not even when he hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to pull the lace down your thighs, "right here."

now you were all but clambering up on top of the marble countertops, trying to squirm away from your boyfriends prodding tongue.

"stop moving." he mumbles, fingers pressing bruises into your hips to keep you in place. "unless you want me to stop."

"n-no don't stop. mark, if you stop i swear to god i'll-"

he pinches the inside of your thigh which makes you yelp in surprise, "you'll what baby?"

sitting back on his heels, he moves his hand to replace his tongue and draws small, agonizing circles with him thumb over your folds - just barely brushing your clit.

"if i stop eating this pretty pussy, i'm just gonna bend you over and fuck you on the counter."

two fingers dip into you, and involuntarily you clench around them.

"you'd like that huh?"

the question has a deep blush rushing up your spine, and you nod your head slowly - too focused on the way his breath is slowly ghosting over the skin of your belly now that he's leaned forward.

his fingers continue to pump in and out of you, and all the sensations were leaving you with a euphoric head high.

"yeah i bet you would baby." sharp teeth nip at the skin below your navel. "but what about your little friend that's coming over?"

your fingers dig into the marble so hard you're afraid you'll break it. "who? h-hyuck?"

"yeah-" he spits, "hyuck."

his fingers move faster now, building the tension that was lingering in your belly. again, his tongue darts out to lick at your exposed clit - though unsatisfied with the angle, mark grabs one of your legs and slings it over his shoulder.

now you were supporting your weight with one leg on the ground and both your hands gripping the countertops. despite the fear of falling, the action has you whimpering for your boyfriend.

"what would he say if we fucked on the very table he's about to eat on?" you can't even focus on his words, too caught up in the sensation of being split open on his thick fingers.

his hair is matted on his forehead when you look down at him. "why would we -"

mark pulls back, "it can be our little secret baby. he doesn't have to know - or maybe he does."

"mark-" you whine, wanting his lips back between your legs.

"cum for me first and then we'll talk about it." rhythmically, his fingers drive into you. "or i'll talk - i don't know, your mouth might be full." a satisfied hum leaves his lips when your head tilts back in ecstasy, "my turn first though."

and then he's back to suckling on the sensitive bundle of nerves. tongue swirling and licking and lapping at the arousal that leaks onto his hand and down his wrist.

you were so wet for him - so fucking perfect. and he ate it up like a starved man.

soon enough the incessant lapping of marks tongue, and his taunting words - "this sweet pussy is all mine yeah?" "don't want me to stop? fucking cum on my fingers then." has your body locking and doing just what he wants you to.

you ride out your high by grinding against his face, and he took it all. he loved watching you enjoy yourself. it meant he was doing his job right.

"felt good?" he murmurs as he gets up off the wooden floor.

you nod dizzily and fall into his embrace once both your feet were on the floor. who knew he could make you this weak?

"aw baby, don't tell me your done yet! we're just getting started." he frowns, circling his arms around your waist and pulling you flush again his body. something pokes at your stomach.

" i think you got a bit of a problem." you point out.

he smirks, lips attaching themselves to yours, before pulling back, "a really big problem." your eyes lock, his still clouded with lust, "you can help me solve it if you bend over the counter like we talked about."

"but babyy" you drawl, "hyucks gonna be here any minute."

mark grits his teeth and pokes the inside of his cheek before fluidly spinning you around and pressing your hips into the counter opposite of the one you were up on earlier. the bulge in his pants presses against the swell of your ass and somehow you end up arching back into him.

"i really don't give a fuck about that guy." the growl rips from his throat so low you almost miss it. "and you shouldn't even be thinking about him." he sighs almost comically, "i guess i didn't eat this pretty pussy good enough."

his fingers dip between your legs again to swirl around your swollen, overly sensitive clit.

"yes- you did." you whimper, legs shaking.

"then why is another man in your head, hm?"

mark didn't show his jealous side much, but when he did, you knew the next day you weren't walking anywhere. just from the snip in his voice, you knew tomorrow was going to be one of those days.

the sound of fumbling can heard from behind you and soon enough the blunt head of marks 'problem' is pressing up between your folds.

'maybe i should fuck the thought of him away - you think that would fix it?"

one of his hands snakes up your spine and grabs the back of your neck. out of the corner of your eye, you watch his bicep flex when he pushes you down flat against the cool marble. your nipples are stiff peaks against the glossed rock and it makes you shiver.

mark knocks your knees apart and pushes his cock into you; slowly at first. he needed you to feel the stretch - feel how big he really was - feel how hard you made him.

pfft. and you were thinking about another man.

"you think he can make you feel like this?" helplessly, you let mark rock his hips into you. erratic moans pour from your parted lips, "oh i know baby, i know it feels good. just take it okay? i know you can pretty girl. take it just like you did when i was devouring this pretty pussy." the lewd words dripping off his lips like honey leaves you spasming around him and scrambling on your tip toes. "ah, you liked that huh?" you go to shake your head but he tsks at you, "don't deny it now baby, your body gave you away."

"mark, f-faster please. i need you to go -"

"faster, i know baby. i'll fuck you real good in just a second. wanna get adjusted first."

from over his shoulder mark takes note of the time.

seven twenty eight.

"say, what time was your little friend supposed to show up?"

you can barely register his words, but through a dreamy, cloudy voice, you whimper out, "seven thirty."

like a string of fate, a knock sounds at the door. both you and mark jolt and look towards the white wood.

"punctual. of course he's punctual." mark seethes. "what do you say we give him a show? let him see just how much you truly care about him when i'm the one fucking you."

the idea is appealing, so appealing in fact that your body betrays you again. a gush of arousal floods around marks cock, making his shallow thrusts slippery.

"why are you being so-"

"because he can't have you. and i can't have him thinking he can."

another knock sounds and your phone laying just out of arms reach lights up with a text message from haechan.

"and you know what baby?" the question is saturated with a cockiness you've never heard from mark before.

you whimper, his hand snaking between your legs and flicking your puffy clit. "what?"

"i didn't lock the door." you gasp when he pinches the bundle of nerves, "so i think i'll just invite our little guest in, yeah?"

"yeah?" you breathe, dazed and fucked out and pliant.

"yeah." he solidifies it and reaches for the hem of his shirt. ripping it over his head, he flexes his biceps - some form of male competition forcing him to show off his girl and his muscles.

"okay baby, get ready to put on a show."

you nod, choosing to focus on the driving force between your legs instead of his words that ring out into the apartment air.

"It's unlocked! you can come in!"

tentatively, the handle turns and pushes open. a young man mark can only assume is haechan steps through the threshold. his doe eyes go wide when he takes in the scene before him.

"nice to meet you. i'm mark, the boyfriend. dinner might need to be postponed a bit."

a/n | did you like it? if you did, consider leaving me a like, a reblog, a review, or some feedback in my askbox :)

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Wrapping Paper - Mike Schmidt X Female Reader

Title: Wrapping Paper

Mike Schmidt X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Abby

WC: 2,449

Warnings: The incident at Freddy's mentioned, post FNAF movie, pining, Mike's nervous, sort of idiots in love, teasing, flirting?, ~hand holding~, mini angst, and fluff

It was Abby's birthday, and Mike still didn't have a present for her. For weeks he had been looking around craft stores when he could before heading to work or after - having found a well-paying job that he hadn't been fired from yet. But even after weeks of searching, he still had nothing to give her. Mike had probably been to the craft stores more than a dozen times at this point, checking the clearance items for anything that he thought Abby would like. But, the clearance section was a small rack at the back of the shop that had half-empty boxes of crayons from unruly children taking them in the store, scribbled on notebooks, and so on. This was all he was able to afford too, he'd go to great lengths for Abby, but it saddened him that he couldn't even afford brand-new supplies like the sixty-four pack of crayons or a nice big notebook for drawing. 

Tapping absentmindedly on the wheel of his car, Mike drove home yet again empty-handed. Pulling up to his house, Mike let out a sigh as he leaned back against the seat of his car, shutting his eyes briefly before raising his arm and reading his watch. Getting out of the car, he grabbed his backpack and headed inside. Dropping his back off into his room, Mike went to the kitchen to start making dinner before Abby came home from school. But just as he was putting the spaghetti noodles in the pot of water, there was a knock at the door. 

Shutting off the stove, Mike brushed his hands on his jeans before making his way to the front door. Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see you standing before him. You had a smile on your face, and you were holding a large box wrapped in colorful paper.

"Hello, Mike," You greeted him, tilting your head to the side slightly as your grin became more of a nervous one, "I hope I'm not too early," Shuffling the present under your arm, you pulled out the folded invitation from the front pocket of your jeans. The plain piece of printer paper doodled with little pictures of what you had assumed were you, Mike, and Abby, along with the date and time of Abby’s little birthday celebration. "It says three, but I thought that maybe you might need help setting things up?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure," Mike stumbled out, moving to the side to let you in. Mike watched as you placed the present on the table, dropping your bag beside it. 

You had been Mike's neighbor for the past year, recently moving in only a couple of weeks after the incident over at Freddy's. He remembered the day he met you vividly, watching Abby ride her bike up and down the sidewalk as your car pulled into the previous vacant house beside his. Stepping out of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, he watched as you opened the back of the car to begin carrying boxes into your new home. Gaining the courage after watching you struggle to unlock the front door with two cardboard boxes in your arms, Mike rushed over. 

Fumbling with your keys as you tried to unlock the door, shuffling the boxes to rest on your arm and propped-up knee as strands of your hair fell in front of your face. The way you smiled at him, grateful as he took the two boxes out of your straining arms, helping you move the rest of your boxes and furniture in. Breathily, you thanked him, offering to bake him cookies or something for him and his sister, and from then on, you, Mike, and Abby would spend a lot of time together.

You'd come over for dinner sometimes, Abby adored you, always asking about you and drawing pictures of you with her and her brother. You do the very same, inviting the two to come over for lunch or dinner, or to play board games, or to watch movies. 

Mike couldn't help but be attracted to you, ever since he watched you pull into your driveway. He didn't say anything though, pushing those rapidly growing feelings to the back of his mind, in fear of ruining the amazing friendship that you and him shared. Sometimes Mike would have to stop himself from staring at you across the table during dinners. His heart would race when he saw you spending time with Abby - seeing both of your smiling faces always brought warmth to his chest, and his breath would hitch slightly at the sound of your laugh. But he deeply cared about the friendship between you two, and wouldn't ruin the good relationship by doing anything stupid. So he held his tongue. And for the most part, you did the same thing.

Turning around to face Mike, he swiftly snapped out of the daze he had been in, meeting your eyes as you smiled at him, "So, what can I help you with? Do you need help with decorations or maybe a cake?"

Scratching his cheek, Mike shrugged a shoulder, looking around the room, "Uh, I don't have any decorations. I was about to start making the spaghetti when you arrived." He spoke, watching as you simply nodded, making your way into his kitchen. "I- I totally forgot about the cake… I’ve been so busy…" He finished, a bit embarrassed at his realization.

Noticing the pot of lukewarm water and the opened box of spaghetti noodles, you hummed to yourself before looking through the cupboards. Mike followed, leaning against the entrance of the kitchen, watching as you pulled out a small bag of flour, sugar, and a small circular pan. "Well," You huffed, a bit out of breath as you pulled out a large plastic bowl from the lower cupboards. "At least you still have some of the ingredients from our last bake day." As you began to start making the homemade cake, you glanced over at Mike, whose gaze was staring down at the floor at his feet. "You alright, Mikey?" You asked, gaining his attention.

Looking up, he let out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall, "I haven't been able to find Abby a present. I've been looking for weeks but I still can't find anything for her."

You paused, pouring some flour into the bowl, looking over at the man as he began to pace the room slightly, "You couldn't find anything?" You asked, raising your eyebrows as Mike nodded his head.

"Nothing! I checked two craft stores every day after work for like three weeks." He explained, rubbing his hand over his forehead, "But I can't seem to find anything that isn't damaged or just something I think she'll like." Stopping his pacing, Mike's shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh, "I really am trying my best, y'know. It's frustrating." He admitted, glancing over at you as you turned around to look at him.

"You are doing your best, Mike," You spoke softly, slowly stirring the flour and other dry ingredients together, "And you know that Abby knows that and that she loves you." Pausing you glanced at him with a small reassuring smile, "I don't think Abby will care if you gave her a present or not, just you spending time with her, celebrating her birthday, is enough for her."

Mike nodded and walked over to stand next to you, watching you as you began to crack the eggs into a separate bowl, "You're right..."

"As always," You sang, unable to stop the grin on your face. Mike looked down at you, softly smiling to himself as you began to hum some song you liked or probably had stuck in your head. Looking up at him, your grin softened as you noticed Mike already looking at you, making your cheeks burn as you quickly looked back down at the dismantled cake ingredients in front of you. "Want to help me maybe, Mr. Schmidt?" You asked, using the remaining courage you had left to give him one last glance.

Nodding, Mike smiled lightly and picked up a whisk, beginning to help you with the mixing. He felt his heart flutter, and his mind wondered, but it faded as he began to focus on the task at hand.

It didn't take long though before the cake was finished, baked, and topped with vanilla icing and colorful candles; unlit and ready for the birthday girl. You and Mike were finishing up the spaghetti, you were working on the sauce while Mike made the meatballs. You bit your lip as you chuckled, watching as Mike almost lost his grip on the spatula he was using to roll the cooking meatballs around in the pan. Looking over at you, Mike felt his stomach twist, seeing the amused smile on your face, "What?" He questioned, glancing from you to the pan and back.

Smiling to yourself, you shook your head, "Nothing. Just enjoying my time with you, is all," Pouring the pasta sauce into a pot and putting on the lid, you leaned against the countertop to look at Mike. 

Biting the skin on the inside of his cheek, Mike turned off the stove, meeting your gaze, "Look, Y/N..." He hesitated, swallowing hard as he looked away. He was quiet for a moment before sighing and taking a step closer to you. "Thank you... For coming here today." He mumbled, his voice soft and gentle. That's not what he was meaning to say, though he did really appreciate you helping him. 

"Mikey, you don't have to thank me," You reached over to place your hand on top of his, "I'd do anything for you and Abby." You replied quietly, giving his hands a soft squeeze.

Slowly, Mike flipped over his hand, now palm to palm, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your hands to his lips so he could place a light kiss on top of yours before returning your hand to the counter as the front door opened and slammed shut. 

"Mike! I'm home!" Abby called out, dropping her backpack on the ground near the door, immediately spying the brightly-colored wrapped present on the table; a smile lit up on her face. Exiting the kitchen, a warm sensation flowed throughout Mike's body as you pulled your hand away from his, greeting the young girl whose smile widened at the sight of you, "Y/N!" She cheered, rushing into your arms.

Chuckling softly, you returned the hug, pulling away after a few seconds, "Hey, Abs," Pulling away from each other, crouched down as you held her by her upper arms, "Look at you... How old are you now? Twenty-Five?" You joked, making the girl laugh as she shook her head.

"No! I'm eleven!" She told you while laughing, making you nod your head and stand back up.

"Of course, how silly of me." Turning back around to Mike, you paused, seeing that he was still standing there, watching you interact with Abby; a fondness evident in his eyes. Looking back down at the girl, you smiled at her, "So, are you hungry? We made spaghetti." She nodded her head eagerly, sitting down at the table, her eyes staring at the present in the middle of the table; her eyes sparkling. You smiled, walking back into the kitchen where Mike was already plating Abby's food. Pulling out two extra plates, you began plating yours and Mike's, peeking over at Mike who seemed to be becoming more and more nervous as he spooned spaghetti on the plate. Bumping your hip with his, you caught his eye, "You'll be fine. I have a plan." You whispered with a small grin, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his stubbly cheek before bringing yours and Mike's plate to the table. Mike blinked, slowly walking over to the table, his cheeks tinged pink as he sat beside you.

Soon enough, the both of you were singing 'Happy Birthday' to Abby as Mike sat the cake down on the table in front of her. The candles, lit and aflame, flickered before being blown out, applause erupting from you and Mike as Abby made her wish after her birthday song. Chuckling softly to himself, Mike leaned forward on his forearms, "What did you wish for, Abs?"

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, "I can't tell you, silly."

Shaking his head in amusement, "Alright then. Cake or presents?" He then asked as you readied the cake knife and three small plates for the cake. 

"Presents!" Abby declared, beaming as Mike let out a small huff, smiling as he turned to you; you could see the nervousness in his eyes as he looked over at you.

Picking up the present, Mike moved the cake out of the way as you placed the present in its place, "Here you go, Abs," You spoke, gesturing for her to go ahead and open her gift. Mike watched beside you as Abby ripped the colorful wrapping paper off the cardboard box, pulling off the tape with amazing speed. He felt tense, hoping that she wouldn't hate him for not getting her a gift. Before his mind could run off anymore, he felt your hand cover his and he lifted his gaze to meet yours. Smiling at him, you squeezed his hand which made Mike's breath hitch as he felt an odd feeling well up inside his chest. Taking a deep breath, he gave you a small smile before turning back to Abby who gasped in shock.

"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, peering inside the box at the many goodies that were found within, looking up at you, she gave you a huge smile, "Thank you, Y/N!"

Mirroring her smile, you waved a hand, "Don't forget your brother, he helped pick out a couple of the items," Mike turned to look at you in surprise, causing you to chuckle under your breath.

Abby got out of her seat, rushing around to hug her brother tightly, "Thank you, Mike!" She thanked him, grinning widely at him.

"Anything for you, Abs," He said, patting her on the back. He turned to you as Abby went back to sit back down, digging around in the box; pulling out craft supplies, stuffed animals, and candy. Mike couldn't help but look at you with an awestruck expression on his face; this girl was too good to be true. "Thank you, Y/N."

Resting your cheek in your hand, you gave him your stunning smile, "Don't mention it."

Shaking his head slightly, Mike looked back at Abby who was already drawing with her new multi-colored markers in her brand-new notebook. 

[letstevengrantsleep]

I’ll make you mine

Spencer Reid x f!reader

Summary: Dr Spencer Reid is your professor. You’re very attractive professor. After a botched awards evening you bump into him on campus, and well… things get heated from there.

Word count: 3543

Warnings: nsfw 18+ content, student/professor dynamic, dom/sub dynamic kinda, ownership kinda, use of “baby” and “good girl”, implied m receiving oral, begging, confessions of feelings, ANGST, fluff

A/n: please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings and I’ll add them on, thanks 🌞

masterlist

From behind you, you hear your name being spoken and in a flash you spin on your heel to be faced with Dr Reid, a friendly face on this otherwise dismal evening. He looks incredible, as always.

“Professor!” You blush, suddenly self conscious about the satin dress you’re in, realising it’s not your usual university attire. “How lovely to see you!”

“Oh of course,” he speaks, trying his best to seem casual as he takes in what you’re wearing, “I take it you’re going somewhere special dressed like that?” His face turns a shade pinker, and he smiles warily down at you.

“Oh, well, I…” you adjust the spaghetti straps on your dress and smooth it down, trying to cover your modesty. “I’m actually on my way back from an event.”

“Back from an event, eh?” He looks at you from hair to toes again, his eyes lingering on your legs shamelessly as he takes in your appearance. “You’ll have to tell me about it over coffee.”

“Now?” smiling and revelling in the attention he’s giving you, you blush slightly.

“I suppose I could cancel my afternoon meetings. Wouldn’t be the first time I blew them off to spend time with you, and I doubt it will be the last.” Spencer laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Now where do you think we should catch up? My office? Or would you prefer somewhere more public?”

You mull it over, but ultimately decide that you’d rather be away from the prying eyes of others right now.

“Your office sounds just great, professor.” Giving him a small smile, you begin to fidget with the hem of your dress around the high slit that lands mid thigh.

“Excellent!” The professor exclaims, offering out his elbow for you to take, ready to escort you to his office. There’s a small part of his mind that wonders about what the other professors will think if they see the two of you linking arms, but there’s a bigger part that tells him not to care. “You look lovely, by the way, your dress really suits you.”

The blush that creeps onto your face is hot, and you try your best to hide it by looking down at your dress, “you think so? I really didn’t know whether it was my colour, I’ve never worn anything like it before.” A nervous laugh leaves your mouth.

“Are you kidding me? You look great in this colour. But I must say, you look great in any colour.” He smirks, proud of himself, biting back the urge to move in closer to you as you walk.

Laughing, you adjust your hair to try and cover more of your blushed face, “you flatter me, Dr Reid.”

“Dr Reid?” He laughs, shaking his head slightly, “oh no, that’s not going to do.” He looks around before leaning in, sending shivers down your spine from the new proximity. “Just call me Spencer, yeah?”

Nodding, flustered, you test his name on your lips and watch as he takes a deep breath, feeling a flutter in his stomach upon hearing his name from your lips.

Chuckling softly, he opens the door to his office and motions for you to enter, watching as you take a seat in the chair opposite his desk and cross one leg over another. Your dress falling open at the slit and showing your thigh. Spencer takes a seat on the other side of the desk after getting the two of you some coffee. He can’t help but glance at your exposed thigh before looking back at your face.

“So, tell me about this event you were at.”

“Oh, gosh, well,” you settling into the chair and briefly hold your head in your hands, “it was an awards evening for the university. I was meant to be up for an award but, uh, it didn’t really go as planned and I got all dressed up for nothing!” You laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

Spencer chuckles back, your laugh is so infectious he can’t help it. “Didn’t go as planned, eh? What happened?”

“Well, the award ended up going to someone else on the course, some guy, I’ve met him a few times in our lectures. He made some sleazy comment about how he could share the award with me if he could…” you hesitate, not wanting to get into the details, “well anyway, I ended up leaving early, that’s all that matters really… which is how I ended up here.” You smile, bashful and nervous about him reading into your statement.

He grimaces before speaking, running his hand through his hair for a second time. “What a jerk… sorry you had to deal with that.” He leans forwards in his desk chair, giving you a sympathetic look. “And you came straight here? Because you wanted to spend some time with someone who would appreciate you?”

Processing what he’s said takes you a second, and you’re somewhat taken aback by how forward he is. “You’re profiling me, Spencer…” you can’t seem to make eye contact with him, choosing instead to stare at your hands as you fidget with them in your lap.

You could swear you see him blush as you call him out, and he clears his throat before speaking, choosing his words carefully. “And if I was?”

Nervously, you add “you’d be right, of course.”

Spencer grins, wide and sincere, “so I was right. You couldn’t wait to spend time with me, could you?”

“Oh come on now Professor, you know you’re the only person in this university who I’d really want to spend any time with.” The teasing tone in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by the older man.

“Professor? I thought we had an agreement, I’m Spencer. I don’t want to be Professor, just Spencer is good.” He leans forwards, wanting to say something out of pocket but not quite knowing where to start. He’s about to speak when suddenly there’s a knock on the door. “You’re kidding me…” he seems deflated, “what could they possibly want at a time like this?”

Smiling, shy again, you speak up, quiet. “You should probably get that.”

Before you can say anything else, he’s groaning and getting up to head towards the door. Before he does, however, he turns with a finger pointed your way… “You just wait here. I need to you be a good girl and stay, alright? Just sit here until I’m back and don’t say a word.”

You nod, wide eyed and mind racing.

“I won’t be long… you can wait for me, can’t you?”

You nod again, blushing, noticing the sly smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He’s enjoying this.

“Good girl.”

Holy shit. Taking a sharp intake of breath, you stand on shaky legs and make your way over to the bookcase just to the other side of the door, trying to distract yourself from the growing pressure you’re feeling in your core. It’s embarrassing how quickly a man can literally have you weak at the knees. All it takes is some praise and a well fitting suit.

Spencer excuses himself and moves in front of you, leaving the door ajar, whispering so only you can hear him, “you wouldn’t be able to do me a favour would you?”

His tone is calm, and you suspect nothing of it when you nod politely and watch as he leans onto the bookcase next to you.

“Can you keep your mouth shut for me? I mean, really keep your mouth shut. I need you to pretend that you’re not here while I talk with…” he gestures towards the door, “and in return, you’ll get more of my time. Do you understand me?”

Flustered, and quite frankly a little turned on, you nod frantically, watching as he pushes himself off the wall, takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and whispers “good girl” with a smirk. You feel your knees go weak as you lean against the wall, short of breath, watching him move back to the door and pick up his conversation with the colleague on the other side.

It takes you a moment to regain some sense of perspective and compose yourself, watching Spencer as he leans against the door frame. He turns and catches your stare and for a moment there’s a pause, and unspoken connection in the air. Then, with deliberate slowness, Spencer looks away and continues speaking to the person outside. He can practically feel you watching his every movement, and for a moment he wonders what would happen if he turned to you and kissed you. It’s fleeting, but he wonders.

Soon, the other person walks away and Spencer turns his attention to the cup of coffee on his desk, taking a large swig before staring at you with full concentration.

“Come here.” He orders, and you obey with little hesitation, making your way over as he closes the door, leaving the two of you alone once again. Without a word he pulls your body close to his until you’re pressed against him, looking you up and down and letting out a short laugh, as if even he cannot believe the situation you’re both in.

As he takes your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks, he says your name, looking you dead in the eye, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

“Spencer…” you respond, looking up at him with wide eyes, hoping to convey all of the nervousness and excitement you feel for this moment.

He caresses your cheek once again as he uses one hand to move your hair out of your face. Looking into your eyes once again, he finally does what he’s been wanting to do since the moment he laid eyes on you. He kisses you. Passionately, hungrily. Your bodies pressed together, your fingers running through each other’s hair. He smiles as you kiss back, letting out a soft moan as you rake your nails down from his hair to his neck, letting one of his own hands fall to your waist to pull you impossibly closer.

After another beat, Spencer pulls away and glances down at your dress, his eyes focused on the material as his hand traces the slit up your leg, his knuckles grazing your thigh.

Breathless, you whisper against his lips, “you see something you like, Spencer?”

Spencer smirks and leans in once more, whispering against your ear, “all I see is something I can’t have…” as he pulls away he mumbles another word under his breath… “yet.”

Shocked into silence, all you can do is stare at the professor as your face turns a deep shade of red.

“Can you promise me something?” He mumbles against your neck as he kisses and bites at the sensitive skin.

Moaning out a “yes, anything” you wait for his response, grabbing at his hair, his suit jacket, anything to keep you upright.

“Can you promise to keep this just between us? This this stays our little secret?”

You smile, biting your lip as you nod, earning another “good girl” from his lips. You’d do anything to hear those words…

He kisses you again, this time lingering… before he takes himself too far he pulls away once more. “You know we can’t go any further for now, right?”

This earns him a whimper from you, pouting as you try and pull him in for another kiss, but he’s quicker and grabs your chin, holding you back gently, saying your name as he looks you dead in the eye. He’s trying his best to convey just how much restraint it’s taking to stop you right here.

“Do you want me to ruin my career for you?” He asks, lifting your head up to meet his gaze.

Shaking your head, you beg with pleading eyes for something, anything to happen.

“Then we have no choice but to wait, baby.” Spencer stands completely still, the wait of the situation now fully registering with him. “Now, listen. I would love to spend as much time with you as possible. To kiss you like that over and over and over again. But we can’t do that right now, so I want you to show me that you can behave. Show me you can keep this our little secret. Can you do that?”

There’s no point in hiding the blush creeping up again onto your face, it’s so fucking sexy how he talks down to you and all you can do is stand there as he tells you what to do. “I might need a little something to convince me to keep this secret, Spence,” you smile, biting your lip at him.

“Of course you do,” he smirks, moving closer once more, “what will it take to convince you?” Spencer let’s his thumb run along your lower lip and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to take it into your mouth and start sucking.

Taking a broken intake of breath, you bite your lip once more and pull all of the courage you have before closing the distance between kissing him deep and rough. This pulls a small gasp from Spencer and one of his hands run back up into your hair, the other trailing down the back of your dress, pulling you closer as you kiss.

You talk in between kisses, lips still on his as you speak, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Sir… please,” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, you just know that you want more of him. “I’ll keep us a secret, I’ll be your good girl Spencer, just give me more, please.” You grab at Spencer’s tie, walking the two of you back until your back hits the wall, so he’s caging you in.

Soon, you’re both gasping and panting, Spencer’s lips red and swollen. “Baby, we should stop.” He can barely get the words out as you push yourself against the wall and his hands move under your dress. You’re sure he’s right but you can’t help yourself when you pick your foot up and wrap it around his calf, bringing him so close you can barely think straight. “Oh god,” he moans your name, his lips finding yours once more.

You can feel his hard cock pressed against your thigh as he pushes against you. “We…” he can’t get the words out. All he wants is you, all he wants is your lips all over him. The only thought in his mind is giving in to his desires, and as he pulls you closer he whispers into your neck, “I bet you’d feel so good.”

You smirk as you make up your mind, looking him dead in the eye before lowering yourself down onto your knees in front of him. You watch as he bites his lip, heart racing at the sight in front of him.

“What… what are you doing?”

“I want to make you feel good,” you whimper, reaching for Spencer’s belt to unfasten it. He doesn’t try to stop you, his body shaking and trembling as you unclasp his belt.

“You know you’re playing with fire right now…” it’s more of a statement than a question, one that has you smiling up at him as you reach for his zip.

Suddenly he takes a step back, hesitating as he says your name, “please slow down for a second..” his heart skips a beat and he swallows hard, looking down at you in an almost trance-like state.

There’s nothing you can do but look at him, waiting for him to say something…

He takes a deep breath.

“Please. Stop… please.”

The moment he asks, your heart drops into your stomach and he rushes to explain as you get to your feet.

“Baby, I need you. I want you to make me feel good, but my whole career is on the line here and I don’t think you realise how close you are to loosing me. If someone were to find out…” he trails off, unsure.

You blink, eyes going glassy, “I’m sorry Spencer… I-“ you turn to leave, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes.

As soon as you move to back away, Spencer pulls you back, hands gripping your wrists. “Don’t leave me, don’t.” He looks at you, pleading. “I need you to listen to what I’m saying here. You’re doing nothing wrong.” His hand comes up once again to gently touch your chin, bringing your attention back to him. “There is nothing I want more than to give into my desires and let you do anything you want to me. But I cannot and will not risk everything I’ve worked for. Just please understand that I’m asking you to hold on until I’m in the clear, okay?”

You take a sharp intake of breath, quickly becoming flustered from his words, no longer so embarrassed. “You mean that?”

“I would be lying to you if I said any different.” Spencer looks at you for a moment before moving to take your hands in his. “Look at how red the marks on my neck are are from your lips. Look how heavy my breathing is… you felt how much I need you. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you…” he pulls you in towards him, letting out a soft moan and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I swear I will make this up to you. I will spend every waking moment with you and make up for everything I denied you today. My career is important, but so are you. You’re so much more important than you could possibly understand.”

You’re flustered, completely incapable of forming coherent thoughts as you focus on how Spencer’s hand slide down to the small of your back.

“Spencer… when can I have you?” You plead, “I need you…”

“Soon, it’ll be soon. My classes end in two weeks time and I’ll be ready to give you everything the day they do. Until then, try to find some… distractions so you can survive the next two weeks, yeah?”

Groaning like a child, you pout at him due to the mention of two weeks, earning a low chuckle from him as he grabs your face in both his hands.

“Try seeing it from my perspective, okay? I’ve been wanting you for months, wanting you in every single way that you could possibly imagine. The fact that I’ve made it this long is almost miraculous, if I’m being honest…”

Wide eyed, you ask… “months?”

Spencer nods and let’s out a small sigh… “yeah, months. Months and months. And it hasn’t been easy. You have no idea what you do to me, how I feel when you call me ‘sir’, when you bite your lip just like you’re doing right now…”

Blushing, you push him away to save from further embarrassing yourself, earning a dissatisfied noise from Spencer.

“No, no no, you can’t push me away. I need you right here,” he keeps his hands on your hips and looks down at you. “You’re my good girl, don’t you forget that. You wait for me and it’ll be all worth it.” He rubs your back a little as his features set into a frown as he thinks. “In the meantime, I’ve got something for you that might help.”

Perking up at the thought of a gift, you tilt your head and ask what it is, earning you a coy smile from your professor. His hands leave your back as he walks to his desk, pulling out a small drawer and reaching in. “This morning I took the precaution of grabbing you something special. I was always planning on this, baby, and now I think is the perfect time to give it to you.”

Watching, you see him remove a thin chain from the drawer, along with a small, golden padlock. He walks to you and slips the chain around your neck, letting the lock fall into your cleavage. Smiling, he brings up the lock hanging from the necklace and slowly clicks it closed. It looks perfect.

“Now, no one can take this lock off your neck except for me,” he holds up a small key, “no matter what, you’re mine, is that clear?”

“I understand, Spencer,” you can’t hide your smile as you bring your hand up to hold the lock, “I’m yours.”

Spencer smiles, “good girl. I promise you that the moment I can, I will remove that lock and give you the time of your life… until then, I want you to enjoy the feeling of knowing that you belong to me and no one else.”

You nod, taking a step back from Spencer, feeling ready to leave now that you have confirmation that he is willing to wait for you, that you mean something to him.

Before you have chance to move too far away, he grabs your hand, “just a moment, I just want to…” and with that he moves in for a quick kiss, his mind filled with the thought that in two weeks he can finally have you.

He moans as you pull away, mind still reeling at the taste of you. “Only a few more weeks…”

[cevansbrat0007]

What's Eating You, Mr. Barber?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to check out Ari Levinson's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Andrew Barber Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Bickering, Manhandling, Ass Slapping, Daddy Kink, Allusions to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Andrew Barber from my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s hard for you to put into words just how much you love playing pranks on your unsuspecting husband. And after downloading TikTok, you’d discovered that the app was home to an online treasure trove of practical jokes designed to make your loved one’s head spin. While it had taken a few days for you to settle on the right prank, you were pretty confident that the one you’d chosen would earn you a fun reaction from Andy without you having to risk your ass in the process. 

You find yourself grinning as you take your time prepping dinner, humming a little tune as you peel and press even more fresh garlic for your homemade tomato sauce. Tonight’s family dinner of spaghetti and meatballs promised to be very interesting. Which was why you’d also taken the liberty of setting up two hidden cameras – one in the dining room and one right here in your kitchen. 

As of now, you had no plans to post this on your channel. But you also didn’t want to miss a minute of your man’s reaction. Until then all you had to do was play it cool for a couple more hours.

Later that Evening…

“Baby Girl, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Your husband asks after watching you make what easily had to be your third trip from the kitchen into the dining room. 

Any other night you would’ve said yes, but not this one. Tonight you were flying solo. The cameras were already on and recording – you’d taken care of that before you’d started setting the table – and so far Andy hadn’t noticed a thing.

Hopefully you’d be able to keep it that way until it was time for the big reveal. 

“No thanks, Big Man. This Mama only has to make one more trip and then we’ll be ready to eat.”  You tell him before sitting two plates on the table in front of your two youngest children. You were down a kid tonight thanks to your oldest, Bianca, being away at a sleepover.  

Andy nods before leaning over to adjust the small hand towel you’d previously tucked into the front of your three-year-old son’s t-shirt. Not that it really mattered all that much since you were positive he’d be swimming in sauce before the meal was over. But what kind of mother would you be if you didn’t at least try?

Biting your lip in anticipation, you scamper back into the kitchen to grab dinner for you and your husband. Andy’s plate was piled high with a generous serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Meanwhile, you give yourself hardly any. 

And therein was the so-called prank. Earlier this week, you’d spent the better part of several hours gleefully watching as dozens of girlfriends and wives proceeded to serve their man impressive looking portions before sitting next to them with virtually empty plates for themselves. Many of the reactions had ranged from hilarious to heartwarming, with only a few dickish exceptions. 

Glancing over your shoulder to ensure you weren’t being watched, you pick up various pans and quietly place them in your oven and out of sight. For this to actually work, Andy would have to believe that there wasn’t enough for seconds or leftovers. Once that’s done, you square your shoulders and confidently march back into the dining room with dishes in hand. 

“I’m back.” You announce, placing a piping hot plate in front of Andy before taking your own seat at the table. “I tried something different with my sauce this time, so everybody dig in and tell me what you think.” 

Andy absentmindedly rubs his palms together as he stares down at the fragrant heap of spaghetti before him. Silently, you will him to look over at what you’d served yourself, but you force yourself to remain quiet so as not to give yourself away. 

“This smells amazing, sweetheart.” Your husband tells you, reaching for a piece of garlic bread. “I’ve been excited for this meal since you told me you texted me at 10:00am.”

“Glad to hear it, Daddy” You pick up the little bowl of parmesan you’d set out and hand it to your middle daughter, Katrina. “What does everybody else think?”

You take a brief glance around the table while you wait for feedback. And although you make a point of not looking at your husband, it’s impossible to miss the way he’s now staring at your nearly empty plate.

“Ooh.” You inwardly squeal, stopping just short of clapping your hands. “It’s starting!” 

“What’s up with this?” His tone is rife with confusion, which only grows when you decide to ignore him in favor of dipping a small piece of bread into some sauce. “Hey – stop!”

“What?” When you finally deign to return his gaze. You have to choke back a laugh as you watch a bewildered Andy comically gesture between your two plates.

“What the fu–fudge,” he swiftly corrects, “is going on with your plate?”

“What do you mean?” You aim to keep your tone light and breezy.

Your husband lets out a frustrated sigh. “Where’s the rest of your food?” He jabs at your plate with his fork, holding up the half of a meatball you’d allowed yourself.

“This was all that was left.” You tell him with a shrug.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His confusion continues to mount even as pauses long enough to grab a napkin to wipe at his son’s increasingly messy fingers. “There was plenty of spaghetti left on the stove.” While he’s occupied you quickly check on little Rory, who appears to be faring slightly better.

“Not really.” 

“Baby…” Andy pins you with a knowing look, one that you readily return.

“What? I…” You trail off, pretending to think. “After I realized BiBi wouldn’t be here tonight, I made some adjustments to the recipe. Turns out I didn’t make enough, so…” Another shrug. “This was all there was after I made everyone else’s plates.” 

Andy is uncharacteristically quiet as leans back in his chair. Meanwhile, your children are busy staring at you, each of them sporting tiny, furrowed brows. Pursing your lips, you set your fork down on your plate and reach for your drink. 

“You can have some of mine, Mama.” KitCat offers before sweetly pushing her plate towards you. The unexpected gesture touches your heart in more ways than one. Not to be outdone, your three-year-old twins also follow suit. 

“That’s okay, babies. I’m perfectly fine.” You reassure them, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Besides, this is all I need and –”

“Thanks kiddos.” Your husband kindly interrupts as he places his napkin on the table. “That was very sweet of you, wanting to take care of your Mama like that.” His brilliant blue eyes beam with pride as he speaks. “But Daddy’s got this one.” 

You’re momentarily taken aback when he stands, picking up his plate as he does. And you’re even more surprised when he motions for you to do the same.

“Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Andrew, sweetheart, it’s okay. I promise.”

“Now, please.” It’s an order, that much you know. But at least your handsome ogre has enough sense to take on the word “please” at the end of it.      

“Fine.” You huff before standing and following him out of the room, although not before encouraging your children to keep eating while you’re gone. Just because it was Friday doesn’t mean it was time to dispense their normal bedtime routines.

You were only playing a prank, not embracing total anarchy. 

Once in the kitchen, you each take up residence in opposing corners. But of course, you’re careful enough to avoid blocking the view of the camera. 

“Baby Girl.” Andy exhales, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you really mean to tell me that there’s no food left? You really made all that pasta and there’s nothing?”

“Yes, Andrew.” You lie without missing a beat. “I already told you. I trimmed down the recipe because –”

“Because Bianca is gone. Yes, I heard you.” He sets his dish down on the counter, openly scrutinizing it. 

“So then what’s the problem?” You rest your back against your pantry while you wait for him to respond. 

“The problem – my problem –” Andy is quick to amend, shaking his head. “– is that you expect me to sit back and watch you starve while everyone else eats. And I don’t like it.” He scrubs a weary hand over his beard. “Hand me your plate, beautiful.”

“Why?” It’s impossible to keep the suspicion out of your voice. 

“Because I don’t need all of this.” He grunts, taking the plate out of your hands when you don’t comply fast enough. “In fact, I don’t need any of it. You eat and I’ll order myself a pizza after we put the kids down.”

“Andy!” You scoff, which comes out on the heels of a laugh. 

“What?” The man is clearly confused by your dismissal of his offer. “I am capable of handling myself, okay? My hands work just fine.” He grates out, making a show of holding up a large, lightly calloused palm.

“But I…I made that plate for you.” You were seconds away from caving and you both knew it. 

“And I’m telling you, my wonderful wife, that I want you to have it.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to –” You begin, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was time to fess up.

“Fine.” Andy breathes, taking a second to roll his broad shoulders. “Then we’ll split it.” He reaches for your hand, pulling you into his warm embrace so that he can whisper in your ear. “And then, after we put the kids down, we’ll order ourselves a pizza. Maybe open up a bottle of wine while we wait.”

“Yeah?” You murmur, relaxing as you bury your face in his chest. 

God, he always smelled so good.  

“Mhm.” He continues, nuzzling his nose against your curls. “And then, once we’re all giggly and buzzed, I’ll convince you to let me make love to you in front of the fireplace. We can even set up a booby trap so that we pretend like the children don’t exist.”

“Wow.” You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles its way past your lps. “Andy Bear, that sounds amazing. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” He rumbles as his brawny arms tighten around your smaller frame. You were pushing your District Attorney beyond his breaking point.

“Because.” Squirming out of his hold, you dance your way towards the oven in preparation for the big reveal. Hopefully your husband would be a good sport about all of this.

“Because?” 

“Because…” You draw out the word, even as you go to open the oven to show him what’s inside. “There’s actually plenty of dinner leftover. See?” You throw your arms wide, but force yourself to stop just short of adding spirit fingers because you suspected he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Baby, I swear…” Andy sighs, his hands slowly sinking into the pockets of his charcoal-colored slacks as he rocks back on his heels. Most likely to keep himself from strangling you, his lovely wife. “Why–what would possess you to lie about something like this?”

“First off, sweetheart, it’s called a prank.” You bridge the gap between your bodies so that you can wrap your arms around his trim waist. “And secondly, I saw it on TikTok. Ever heard of it?” 

He glares down at you, which has you instinctively clenching your thighs together. That’s part of the reason you loved riling up your Big Man.

Being a brat got your motor running. 

“I take it you have.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss away his frown. “Well, I fell down the rabbit hole the other day while the kids were napping. There’s this whole, like, subsection that’s just pranks. And the latest one involved these women pranking their guys by serving them a huge plate of food, and then pretending like there’s nothing left for them to eat. The reactions were super entertaining, so I figured I’d test it out, you know? Just for fun.”

You grace him with your most dazzling smile, but unfortunately, he’s still having none of it. His frown only deepens as he tilts his face up towards the ceiling in an effort to summon all of his remaining patience. 

“Are you mad?” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip while you wait for his answer.

“Yep.”

“C’mon, Andy Bear!” You pout before placing your hands on his biceps to give him a light shake.”Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Pretty sure I lost it the day you decided torturing me was your new favorite pastime.” He grumbles, although there doesn’t appear to be any heat in his words. “In fact, I have a feeling you just gave me several new grays.”

“Oh, don’t you dare blame me for those.” You tell him, playfully rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “I’ll have you know that you came home with those. I spotted ‘em the moment you walked through the door.” Your sassy response earns you a sharp crack to your ass, making you wince.

“Ow!” 

“Brat.” He grouses, even as he presses a sweet kiss to your nose. 

“Guilty as charged.” You hum, weaving your arms around his neck. “Besides, I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me starve.”

“Not sure it’s even possible to fail that challenge, Baby Girl. I mean, you’re my wife. My partner in crime. Did you really expect me to just let you go hungry?”

“You’d be surprised.” You mutter, making a mental note to show him a few videos featuring some of the men who’d actually failed the test. “But thankfully you didn’t. And neither did the kiddos. Which is why I will graciously allow you all to sleep inside tonight.”

You let out a tiny yelp when Andy suddenly grabs your ass with both hands, squeezing hard as he lifts you up. Unsure of what else to do, you immediately lock your legs around his waist. Right now you were just going along for the ride.  

“Now is that any way to talk to Daddy?” Andy lovingly captures your mouth, lightly stroking his along the seam of your lips. “Especially after you played such a mean trick?” His once clouded blue eyes are now filled with mischief. 

“Oh, I’m not sorry. But if it helps, I am willing to delete the video.” Your husband’s eyes go wide, letting you know that he hadn’t even considered the prospect of being recorded. So you keep talking, hoping to distract him. “And I still wanna get you drunk and take advantage of you after we put the children down for the night.” You run your fingers through his neatly coiffed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nail.

“I don’t know if I should trust you.” He eyes you warily, making clear that he still hasn’t quite recovered from your earlier betrayal. 

“What if…” You lean in close, lightly nipping at his earlobe. “I could find it in my heart to apologize between then and now? How does that sound, Big Man?”

“I mean I might be interested.” Andy shrugs, gently setting you on the counter before bracing his muscled arms on either side of you. “Out of curiosity, just what kind of apology are we talking about?” He gazes at you with lust-filled eyes, eagerly anticipating your response.

“The kind that’s best offered while on my knees, wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of thigh highs and garters.” You know you’ve got him when you hear him groan low in his throat.  

“Fucky, baby.” Your husband hisses, burying his face in the valley between your breasts as his imagination suddenly kicks into overdrive. “Can you be sorry enough to wear the heels too? You know the ones I’m talking about.”

Oh. You knew exactly which ones he was talking about.

“I think so.” You murmur, stroking a tender hand along his back as he struggles to regain his composure.   

“Then we’ve got ourselves a deal.” He grips your hips before kindly helping you down. “Now let’s go get those kids fed and off to bed.” Andy grabs your hand, tugging you behind him as you head back to the dining room to see about your babies. 

“Slow down, Andrew.” You laugh as your legs scramble to keep up. 

“No can do, Baby Girl.” He grunts, picking up his pace. “Daddy’s really looking forward to that apology. So be sure to eat up because…” He trails off when he comes face-to-face with his sauce covered little ones. “...You’re gonna need all of your strength.”

“You can count on it.”

END

[cumulo-stratus]

request- hanging out with your two best buds spencer and penelope and watching lady and the tramp

or could be just with spencer

i just love seeing them together and need to hang out with both of them. and i know they are both fans of Disney movies like c’mon it just makes sense

BEST BUDS [S.R]

Penelope, spencer, and you share a nice night at penelope’s watching Disney classics with spaghetti

spencer reid x gn!reader ][ fluff drabble ][ 0.6k ][ masterlist!!

a/n- MAY ILYSM FOR THIS REQUEST!! its a drabble not a full fic but oh well lol

“Spencer pass the cheese!” Penelope's many bracelets jingling on her wrist could be heard as she reached out for Spencer to hand the cheese to her. 

When Spencer placed the bag in her hand she shook it onto her bowl of spaghetti. There was now a little pile of white parmesan cheese on top of her spaghetti. 

Penelope leaned against one end of the couch wearing her Mickey headband while you and Spencer cuddled up on the other end for best buds night as Penelope so lovingly called it. The name hadn’t changed even when you and Spencer got together a few months ago.

They usually happened whenever there was the time for one, which wasn’t often. This made them special. Special meant Penelope often got very excited at the prospect of a best buds night. 

Tonight she had decided to make spaghetti to go with their viewing of The Lady And The Tramp. Ever since you had discovered Spencer's secret love of old disney movies, both you and penelope insisted on watching his old favorites.

Penelope had heard about this from Spencer when she saw him blushing at texts, and being the guy who never normally even takes a second glance at his phone unless it's work related. Of course, Penelope being the lover of matchmaking insisted on knowing what Spencer was looking at.

Said previous events led to the three being cozied up on the couch with the light of the movie illuminating Penelope's otherwise dark apartment. The old style music and animations brought back memories from Spencer's childhood. 

“You know my mom used to play this for me a lot” Spencer spoke with a fond smile, and you could almost see the memories flickering like old film behind his eyes. You smiled up at your boyfriend from his shoulder. You placed a small kiss on his growing stubble. 

ever so often, either penelope, you, or Spencer would make a comment (though most of them were spencers). Spencer usually said something about how the animation was done, or a historical inaccuracy. “You know that architecture is quite unrealistic for supposedly the early 1900s- are you guys seeing this brickwork?” he would call out, only earning a giggle from the others. 

When Penelope made a comment it was usually along the lines of “ahhhh!!! look at these two cutie pies!!” and other phrases in the same vein. Her excitement was at its peak in the classic spaghetti sharing scene. there had been lots of penelope screams/yelps of joy. 

You preferred to stay quiet, leaving a sentence hanging in the air every once in a while. But you found more pleasure in listening to your two best friends.

The more the night wore on, the more the warm bowl of spaghetti in your stomach and the soft sound of Spencer's heartbeat lulled you into a drowsy state against his chest. His warmth radiated into your soul, allowing a blanket of peace to roll over you as the movie's credits started to play. ‘’

Spencer looked down to find you asleep on his chest, and his second thought after how adorable you were- was how was he going to bring himself to wake you up and go home for the night. 

Then again, Spencer noticed someone asleep. Penelope had her head rested against the couch and an empty bowl still in her hands. She also sported a small squishmallow of a unicorn at her side. with her eyes closed you could see the eyeshadow she hadn’t had the thought to take off yet.

And as spencer looked at his two best friends, and then back to the tv with the credits still rolling, he wondered how he got so lucky.

spare a reblog?

[bixbiboom]

Cover reveal for the upcoming Critical Role cookbook!

Check out all the Easter eggs hidden in that art, lol

Plus a sneak preview of one of the included recipes: De Rolos’ Revenge Pasta!

De Rolos’ Revenge Pasta

For generations, the traditional dish of the de Rolos, rulers of the city of Whitestone, was a warming pasta puttanesca. Then the Briarwoods took over the city, slaughtered all but two of the de Rolos, and reigned for years of gloom and terror. After the survivors, Percy and his sister Cassandra, reclaimed Whitestone with Vox Machina's help, some old traditions were bound to evolve. Now a new dish has been added to the celebratory rotation. The topping is white, like Percy's hair, rather than the red of blood, and the pasta contains two entire heads of garlic. Partake in good health and stinky breath. Unless you're a vampire, in which case: go straight to hell, and say hi to the Briarwoods for us.

PREP TIME: 10 minutes

COOK TIME: 20 minutes

Kosher salt

1 pound / 450g dried spaghetti

½ cup / 120ml extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for serving

20 garlic cloves, thinly sliced (about ½ cup / 100g)

½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

Freshly ground black pepper

1 cup / 15g finely chopped fresh parsley leaves (from about 1 small bunch)

1½ cups / 360g whole milk ricotta cheese

Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the spaghetti and cook according to the package instructions, 9 to 12 minutes. Drain in a colander.

Heat the olive oil in the now-empty pot over medium heat. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring often, until the garlic is very fragrant and soft, 2½ to 3½ minutes. Remove the pot from the heat and add the cooked spaghetti, 1 teaspoon of salt, ½ teaspoon of black pepper, and the parsley. Toss the pasta to evenly coat it with the infused oil.

Transfer the pasta onto serving plates and top each portion with a generous dollop of ricotta cheese. Drizzle with olive oil and finish with additional black pepper.

[ilythena]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 || 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM falling in love with Quinn was bad, but realizing you loved him was worse.

friends to lovers! My fav trope, Arguing and Quinn thinks you’re too good for your boyfriend, distance, angst, mutual pining, there are slight mentions of a very toxic relationship and abuse so please be advised before reading any further below the line. NOT proofread so……

♪ FIREWORKS - DRAKE

“Quinnifer, pass me the pepper?” “Stop calling me that.”

Cooking spaghetti with a grumbling Quinn over your shoulder, you smile when he begrudgingly hands you what you need and goes back to watching you make the food.

It’s a normal routine for you two, being roommates in college and then eventually working in the same field when Quinn got accepted into umich and you became a part of the medical team for them as an intern and a student, it was pretty difficult to separate you two.

“You excited for the fourth? I can’t wait for the fireworks!” You squeal, and quinn lets out a small smile at your excitement. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to as you about that.” He says, and you turn your eyes off the food for a second to let him know to continue, and he sighs out before speaking. “I was wondering if you wanted to come hang with me and my family? My parents keep asking about how you are and they miss you” he shys out and you laugh.

You met Quinn’s family completely on accident. Last year, Your mutual friend was hanging out with him and when you had stopped by the house he was in, Quinn and his whole family was there as well. It wasn’t awkward for a second, his mother opening up her arms to you and it was like you were with your own family.

“Actually, my parents are going out the country so i’d love to! How are your parents? Your Brothers too.” You turn off the stove and move to grab two plates, making them for you two.

“They’re good. They miss you too, especially Luke.” Quinn grabs a fork and sits down, not hesitating to eat as soon as you put his plate down. “Aww, I miss lukey too! He’s my favorite.” You smirk and laugh when quinn huffs in disapproval.

Looking down at your phone, the date is December 26th, 2017. You can see a few text from your mother and some friends, but ultimately decide to put your phone down when Quinn turns on the TV and plays your favorite show. Nothing can compared to right now.

“Hey, Quinn?” You say, Quinn hums and you grab a blanket to cover your lap. “Is it cool if I bring my boyfriend along? Cause I already know you’re bringing a few friends along.” Quinn stops chewing for a second, but lets out a ‘sure’, despite him secretly not wanting to.

Quinn and your boyfriend don’t have the most ideal relationship. It was pretty good in the beginning, but when you and your boyfriend started arguing more and more Quinn started to hold grudges against him. Trying to convince you to break up with him multiple times and failing, him and your boyfriend have this secret animosity that they can’t seem to bring up with each other.

“I know you two don’t get along, I’ll tell him to be on his best behavior if he decides to come along. Cause with or without him I’ll be there regardless quinnifer, I promise.” You smile and he groans at the cheesy nickname you’ve given him.

The next time you see Quinn’s family again is on December 31st, New Year’s Eve.

Everyone’s here. Quinn’s friends, luke and jack’s friends, family friends, random people you’re not sure Quinn even knows, everyone.

You can smell hamburgers in the air and you’re taking a sip of the water you have in your hand when Luke gently grabs you by the shoulder to say hello.

“Lukey!” You shout, grabbing him in excitement after finally being able to see the youngest Hughes after a while. “Y/n! I’ve been looking for you all night!” He smiles, swaying the two of you back and forth as you two laugh together. “I’m not that hard to find, eh?” “Well, Quinn wasn’t any help at all.” You hear another voice groan and you can see Jack with a bag of chips in his hand when you let go of Luke to hug him as well

“He’s never any help.” you joke and steal a chip from the bag while Jack snatches it back although too late. “True.” Your boyfriend says and with a side eye, you’re suddenly reminded of his presence. “Oh! Jack, Luke, I don’t think I’ve ever introduced you to my boyfriend! This is Dallas.” You say, motioning your hands to him as he waves a hand hello.

“Nice to meet you.” He says and extends a hand out in greeting. The two boys look at each other in a way you can’t describe and hesitantly reach out to shake his hand. As you watch them talk to each other, you spot Ellen in the corner of your eye and walk up to her to say hello.

“Oh! Y/n! I haven’t seen you in a while!” She says with happiness evident in her voice as she hugs you. “Mrs.Hughes! I missed you!” “Hun, you can call me Ellen” slowly letting you go so that you can say hello to Jim as well, you tell Them about how college is going for you, letting them know all the details they please.

As they get wrapped up into another conversation with someone else, you take a seat on a chair that’s been left alone and take in the sight of everyone getting along infront of you.

You only get about 5 minutes to relax before Quinn pops up beside you, not saying anything because he didn’t want to interrupt your focus. You turn your head to look at a tree and magically see Quinn and he smiles at you.

“Hey.” “Hey!” You two say to each other and laugh. “You okay? Everything alright?” “Yeah, this is great. Thanks for inviting me, Quinnifer.” You softly grab his hand and he can feel heat rushing to his face. “You’re welcome” he mumbles and you let out a toothy grin.

You’re enjoying the comfortable silence with Quinn, letting the conversations near you two and the wind blowing do all the talking for you two. Quinn’s mom calls him over and he nods to you in a ‘I’ll see you later’ way while you wave him goodbye.

You’re left alone again sitting in silence, when suddenly a dark shadow is casting over you. You look towards the cause of it and there stands your boyfriend—unhappy and irritated.

“Can I help you?” Brushing the hair out of your face, you look him up and down and it’s as if he’s had enough. he grabs you by your arm, yanks you up, and pulls you farther outside where nobody can see you two unless they go looking.

“Actually, yes you fucking can, y/n.” He snaps and you mentally roll your eyes at what could have possibly happened in the 10 minutes you were gone.

“You think I didn’t see that? That little thing you and him did? I’m so tired of you sitting here and pretending like nothings going on with you two.”

“Pretending what’s going on with us, Dallas? There is nothing going on.” Leaning on the tree to your right, you can see the anger rising in his face.

“Oh yeah, act oblivious like you always do. You know, if you were gonna sit up here and be a whore in front of my face, why did you even invite me here?” He yells, the wind blowing harder and the leaves shaking under their wrath. “Dallas, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just wanted you to come here because I know all of our friends are here and I didn’t want you to feel left out simply because it’s at Quinn’s parents house.”

“Go to hell, y/n. That man is in love with you and you have the fucking audacity to invite me here? Fucking bitch.” Your throat closes in on you when he steps closer to you, eyes black and unreadable.

“If you hate him so much why did you come! Just because I invited you doesn’t mean you had to say yes! I’m so sick of these petty arguments!” Standing up straight to walk away, he slams you back into the tree. You wince in pain, your back taking most of the damage.

“Dallas, let me go” you whisper, and his grip on you only tightens. “Or what? What are you gonna do, y/n? Call Quinn over to help you? I’m so fucking sick of your mouth.” Roughly gripping your chin between his fingers to force you to look up at him, the only thing you can feel is fear.

“Hello? Anyone back here?” A voice calls out, and you can immediately tell right off the bat it’s Quinn. In the moment of your boyfriend’s distraction, you make a run for it. Bolting out of the tree he had you against and running straight into the house.

You got a few concerned stares speeding up the stares, and the anxiety in your stomach stirred harder when you heard your boyfriend and Quinn arguing outside.

You ran right into Quinn’s room and slammed the door, heavy breathing and tears streaming down your face. After what felt like a minute to you but in reality was about 15, you could hear steps outside of Quinn’s room and the door slowly opening.

It was Quinn. It’s always Quinn. You can’t control the sobbing when you see him and he doesn’t hesitate to softly close the door and comfort you with gentle words and a grounding hug.

Your sobs simmer down into soft sniffles and Quinn has his arms wrapped around you tightly. No words said between you two, but a knowing understand.

After wiping the remaining tears off your face, you can see the softest look on Quinn’s face when he looks down at you. “Why didn’t you tell me he was like that?” He whispered and despite the heaviness of the situation, you let out a dry chuckle

“It was different this time.” You croak out. “It was like a different version of him. I mean, we’ve been having issues a lot recently but he’s never reacted to it like this.” Snuggling you closer to him, Quinn tucks your face into his neck and rubs your back.

He freezes when you let out a small hiss, moving his hand off your upper back to see a few bruises forming from his treatment of you earlier.

“Did he fucking hit you?” He states quickly, to which you might’ve taken a second too long to answer because you can see the confused-angry-sadness rise onto his face.

“H-he didn’t like hit me! Like, he slammed me into the tree and grabbed me really rough, which I know isn’t-“ “y/n. I just want you to be okay.” Letting out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding, you melt into Quinn’s chest and he presses a small kiss into your hairline.

“I am okay.” You breathe out and he closes his eyes to properly collect himself. “Has he ever done that before?” “…..he’s never hit me before. He’s broken a lot of stuff before. That was all. I irritated him a lot, and maybe I should’ve-“

“Don’t you even dare to think that anything he did was your fault.” Cutting you off and looking you dead in your eyes, you give up on your words and just slump against him in silence.

You two stay there for a while, just sitting against each other and you’re taking in what truly happened.

The months are seeming to move quicker. Before you know it, Quinn’s being drafted.

He’s moved out, the apartment you two shared being eerily quiet as you sit down in the living room, watching the tv on a low volume.

Pictures of you and Quinn are still up on the walls, and everything Quinn left behind hasn’t been touched since he left you. It’s not like you two stopped talking, but it’s definitely been less since the distance between you two.

Playing with an abandoned string on the side of your cardigan, you realize it’s too quiet. And it’s making you sad.

As if he knew what was happening, your phone lit up with Quinn’s contact on your phone. You picked it up immediately and his voice came through the speaker.

“Hey, you okay?” “Yeah, ‘m fine.” “What’re you doing? Taking good care of the apartment?” You can hear rustling in the back of the call, which makes you smile a little

“Everything’s fine. Stuck right where you left it, Quinn.” You whisper, and he frowns on the other side of the line. “What’s wrong?” “Nothings wrong.” “Somethings wrong, y/n. You don’t call me Quinn unless you’re upset.”

Biting your bottom lip, you hesitate for a moment before whispering a very quiet “just miss you.” The phone barely picks it up but Quinn can hear it, and it tugs at his heart.

After the incident at the New Year’s party, you two grew impossibly closer. This was his first time being so far away from you in a long time and he knew how badly it was affecting you.

“Miss you too. If your schedules still the same, I might be able to come see you? I have a little off time.” He can hear you jump over the phone, immediately booking a ticket when you let the first letter of please come out of your mouth.

“I’ll come see you on Wednesday, how does that sound? I’ll stay until Sunday.” And you’re blocking out all plans on those days, a bright smile on your face.

Your nerves eat at you for those two days you had to wait until Quinn arrived, Nearly jumping on him as soon as he touched down in the airport. You were near him a lot, and when you were scared you were being clingy he shut those fears down immediately and told you how much he missed you too.

“You really did leave everything the same, huh? Guess my artistic skills are so good there’s nothing to change.” He jokes and you scoff “well… I did take down that hideous curtain design you chose.” Giggling when he gasps in fake offense.

“I miss this place a lot, you know? It’s always like I’m home here.” “Well before you get comfortable, take off the shoes. I don’t need dirt on my floor.”

You two sat on the couch and talked. You two talked for hours, as if it was a part of normal routine for you two.

“How’s Vancouver? Heard it’s nice” you mumbled, and he smiles softly. “Good. It’s good. Would be better if you were with me, though.” Grinning you nudge him and he looks at you with an undistinguishable look.

“I’m serious. You always told me how you were looking to be in the medical team for the nhl, and the canucks need a new team member. I think you should come with me when I go back so I can introduce you to the team-“ “what? Quinn, you can’t just surprise me with that!” Sitting upright, he laughs as if he wasn’t trying to literally convince you to move.

“Where would I even stay-“ “stay with me. I’ll always let you stay with me, y/n” “I’m not gonna burden you with that.” “How would it be a burden if I’m offering it to you?”

Eyes softening, you’re left speechless. Taking your silence as a nudge to continue, Quinn lets his truth out. “I know how hard it is for you staying here. Kidra told me you were crying a few days ago because it was too lonely for you. I know you miss me, and I really fucking miss you, y/n.”

You two stare at each other for a second, and before you knew it your lips were on his and all the breath you had in your lungs were knocked out. “Come with me, come with me and I swear to everything you won’t regret it. I want you so badly, and my family already thinks we’re basically dating.”

The soft brown locks of Quinn’s hair between your fingers becomes more apparent when you come back to reality. “I want you too. And I want to come with you. I’m scared, Quinn.” “Don’t be. I’ll be here with you. I’m willing to do anything with you.”

The warm summer air is flowing through your window, sending a shiver down your spine. This is your chance. This is what you’ve thought about since he’s left. Wondering when you could be with him again.

“Yes. Yes I’ll go. Fuck, should I pack a bag? I need to book a ticket. Are we going now? What’s happening-“ with another kiss to your lips, you two lay on the couch enjoy each others presence once more.

“We’ll figure it out in the morning. Right now, I just want you in my arms.”

© copyright of ilythena. Do not repost or translate onto any other websites.

Very abrupt ending but I genuinely wanted to post today. Going on break soon, so more fics coming very soon!

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

First date!

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word Count: 862

CW: Gender-neutral reader, referred to only as ‘you’, turtles my beloved, I am feeding you turtle fluff today. <3

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 A first date with Leo would be pretty cozy, I’d think. He wishes he could take you out to a fancy restaurant like other men could, or even take you to a movie theater, ANYTHING so romantic, he wishes he could do. It really does make him feel so bad that he can’t provide you with romantic experiences like this, not unless he was disguised, but he can’t risk it either.

💙 But, you’re able to snap him out of it! You suggest a little stay-in date, and honestly, he wasn’t really aware what a stay-in date was, so you end up explaining all the things you two could do.

💙 That actually lifts his spirits a bit, and you reassuring him you didn’t need anything fancy and were happy just spending time with him made him feel so warm and fuzzy.

💙 The two of you would make dinner together when the brothers were out and Splinter was sitting in his room. The two of you had a romantic time, making spaghetti together and enjoying the meal… Soft touches, subtle flirting and sweet exchanges with one another, and the food was delicious too!

💙 After that, Leo would turn on Mikey’s stereo, playing some romantic music, then offering a hand. Once you take it, he’d pull you into a slow dance, your bodies pressed together in a warm embrace as you two would sway, his eyes staring into yours warmly. It was truly a cozy night.

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ A first date with Raph would be pretty fun! He already knows what he wants to do, he’s had it planned out for months if you two ever did get together— Yeah, he’s daydreamed a lot the moment you’d possibly say yes.

❤️ He gets Donnie to make another helmet, just for you specifically. Once that’s done, the plan is set into motion. Raph approaches you and asks if you want to go somewhere special, and once you give him the yes he was waiting for, he takes you up to their garage.

❤️ He would take you for a ride on the Shell Cycle through the city and soon make it outside of the city to a nearby patch of grass with a blanket and even a picnic basket, (bro had this all set up).

❤️ The two of you would end up enjoying the sandwiches he made while admiring the stars, it was just the two of you, and it all felt so so right.

❤️ You guys ended up cuddling that night and sharing a few kisses before he had to bring you home. He was very grumpy about that fact. 💔

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 With Donnie, he wasn’t sure what to do for a first date. He’s not experienced in the romance department, (not like any of his brothers are either but), mostly because he’s always thought more about science than what it would be like to love another.

💜 Well, how about a small adventure? Not the most romantic, but it would still be fun! The two of you set off in the Battle Shell, picking up some fast food and stopping in an empty-ish parking lot to eat.

💜 After talking and eating, you two would set off again and find yourself at an old scrapyard that seemed pretty much abandoned! After Donnie would give you that look, you couldn’t deny those little puppy eyes.

💜 Honestly an interesting experience. Donnie found some pretty neat things he could use for his inventions, and you found some pretty cool old things, like you found an old antique lamp, which was pretty cool!

💜 You guys would get back to the lair and end up cuddling on the couch. Not long after, both of you were passed out with a soft blanket draped over the both of you. His brothers found you guys and Mikey took pictures to tease the both of you later, (little stinker).

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 As I mentioned in the last fic, (the ‘03 turtles are in love!), you guys had a rooftop date… And to say it was a fun experience would be absolutely correct.

🧡 Mikey, being the goofball that he is, had this little dining table set up and he had a fake mustache on along with this apron, acting like a waiter once you first climbed onto the rooftop, greeting you with a big smile.

🧡 He’d push in your chair and hand you the menu, pouring you a glass of Fanta, while asking you what you’d like to eat. This menu only had pizza on it by the way, so what did you order? Pizza of course!

🧡 He’d take your menu and soon grab a box of pizza, tossing aside his apron and mustache, making you laugh at his silly antics. He’d serve the pizza with a wink, and you guys would have a small dinner date while watching the sunset together!

🧡 After dinner, you and him would have fun dancing on the rooftop. Similar to Leo, he’d play music, but instead of an embracing dance with romantic music, you would be listening to more cheerful music and having a good time! Dancing to your heart's content and laughing. If you ever did end up getting tired, he’d carry you home without issue.

RAAAH, okay, felt a good amount of inspo today so I was quick to dispel it 😭 also GOD DAMN, thank you guys so much for the support on the last fic! I didn’t expect it to get so much traction like at all, so glad to see you guys like my writing! :) Next one I’m planning is first kisses with these lovely turtles <3 so I hope to see you guys there too!

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #03)

FEB03: Mutual Pining

You’d enjoyed having dinner with John on your little shared balcony. He was every bit a gentleman, even if he was mostly joking around with you. He pulled out your chair, and he plated your dishes like a chef, serving you as if it was a real date. Part of you wished it was, but the other part of you felt guilty. 

You had a boyfriend, after all. It didn’t seem like you did, though. He was never around, and when he was, he always made an excuse to leave. He worked in a senator’s office, and was “stuck at work” more than any normal person would be. You knew you needed to break up with him, but you just hadn’t found the right moment. 

When you told John about your situation, he seemed to sober up a bit, obviously surprised since he’d never seen anyone around your place. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t come to Bethesda,” you confessed as you twirled the spaghetti noodles around your fork, watching as the pasta slipped through its sauce, “He says it would be too far from the office.”

“Never? It’s not that far,” John said, a little perturbed. 

“I didn’t think so, but it is what it is,” you shrugged, “Sometimes I wonder why we’re still pretending to be together when we’re clearly not.”

“Why are you, love?” He asked you, very forward. 

You looked up at him, surprised at his challenge. You didn’t have a good answer. 

The conversation moved to work and to family and to friends. You learned about his coworkers, and even though he was vague, you learned about some of the missions they’d been on. He would light up like a candle with smiles and laughter at some of the stories, but sometimes he’d become very serious and bottle himself up when he told you about the others. John was a complex man, but he craved simplicity. He wanted a world that was easy, and it made you wonder how much of his life had been hard.

In the week after you’d had dinner together, you and John were finding more and more reasons to be out on the balcony. He would smoke. You would water your plants. He would work on his laptop. You would read. Sometimes, he asked you to read to him. Those were your favorite moments. Then, one morning, you saw him through the window smoking as he usually did, but this time, he was completely shirtless.

You stared through the window like a hungry dog at a butcher’s shop, practically drooling at the meat on display. Goddamn he was gorgeous. As large as he looked in his clothes, he seemed even bigger out of them. His enormous, heavy muscles rippled beneath furry skin, and his shoulders and back were splattered with thousands of freckles. He was thick. There were abs, sure, but he was well-fed and powerful. His Adonis belt was round and heavy, cutting a deep v-shape that disappeared into his running shorts, and you imagined what those vanishing ruts would lead to.

Just when you let your mind wander a little too far, he walked over and knocked on your sliding glass door, scaring you half to death. You hoped he hadn’t seen you gawking at him. 

You slid it open and greeted him, 

“Hey, John, everything alright?”

He smiled, a bit embarrassed, 

“Ahh, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’ve bloody locked myself out. Thought I put the latch down, but it has a mind of its own.”

“Sure, come in. I actually have a spare for that unit. I’m telling you, it’s the ghost. I bet she flipped the latch on you,” you joked.

Then, John Price stepped into your small space, and you got an up-close view of those mountainous shoulders of his. He smelled like his cigars and the sun. It was the outside scent of the warmth that clung to his skin that drew you in. He was peering down at you, watching you step in front of him as you let him through. For a moment, you breathed the same breath together, and you were so close, if you just tilted your head… your mouths might just…

“You might be right, love,” he chuckled, pulling you from your stunned state, taking the key from your hand, “Two days ago, I could’ve sworn I turned off the bath water, but it was running, full-on, in the middle of the night.”

“Spooky!” You laughed in shock, trying to cover up your flustered, pink cheeks with a casual laugh.

“Damn right. Anyway, thanks for this,” he nodded at you and returned to the patio.  

Two days later, your washing machine went out, and you were borrowing his. The same song and dance kept happening between you. You’d slide in past the other, sharing that same charged breath, and then you’d laugh it off. 

This time, it was the basket of clothes that saved you. 

“C’mon in, love. Washer’s there. Opposite side of yours, I’d expect,” he pointed to the old machine. 

“Yep,” you nodded, tossing in the load of clothes, “Thanks for letting me use yours for now. The guy said he’d be here for repairs tomorrow.”

“No harm done. But, uh…” he paused, smiling knowingly, “Don’t forget these.”

You watched as he bent to pick up a particularly skimpy romper that you slept in recently. It was white and pale blue with little bows on the straps. He dropped it in the wash as it filled with water, and you thought you heard the faintest laugh under his breath. 

“Want to watch a bit of telly while you wait for them?” He invited you deeper into the house, “Could pour you some wine, or we could call out for Chinese?”

If you stayed here one more moment, you were going to try to kiss this man, and you had to do everything you could to stop yourself,

“Oh, I’ve got some work I’m doing. Thank you though. I’ll be back in a half-hour or so?” You backed out of the hallway like a crawfish, trying to escape.

“C’mon. Take a break for a bit. You work too hard…” he purred, sinking into his sofa and patting the seat next to him invitingly. 

You shrugged, push-over that you were, and relented,

“Sure, it can wait.” 

“Can I get you a drink?”

“No.”

“Just watching Top Gear. That alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting back gingerly in the sofa, feeling his body heat radiating along your left side. 

The show was playing, but you heard none of it. You couldn’t recall a single thing that happened. Something about men in cars? All you knew was how deeply your neighbor was breathing beside you. You knew the smell of his detergent, filling the air of his apartment, borrowed and blue, the suds of which were mingling into your clothes, making you smell as he smelled. How his sheets must smell. 

He was just sitting there, stock-still, but you could tell he was not watching the show either. He didn’t laugh when the audience laughed, he didn’t speed through commercials, and he was looking at you. It was subtle. He hadn’t even turned his head, but his eyes were on you, staring down your top. You’d just registered what you were wearing now, too late. You’d come over braless, in a tank top, those same hot pink almost-nothing shorts, and mismatched socks, scrunched at the ankles. 

Eons passed like this. The show kept playing, and you kept wanting, with every fiber in your being, to crawl over this man’s lap and crush your body to his, begging him to fuck you. It had been so long since anyone had even pretended to want to.

But, you didn’t move. You wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be proper, would it? Not while you were still in a relationship. Not while he was going to be your neighbor, perhaps permanently. So, you didn’t react.

You did, however, test his resolve. 

You uncrossed your legs and tucked them, criss-cross on the couch, spreading your thighs wide apart. You shifted as you did so, slyly pulling your top down just a little bit further, knowing your left strap had a nasty habit of falling off your shoulder. Like a charm, it did. 

You pretended not to notice, and you watched as he very much did. 

His hands spread wide and his palms ran flush across the denim of his jeans, down his legs, sweating, perhaps. His breathing quickened, and he now was very obviously staring down your shirt, his gaze pinned to your breasts. 

Suddenly brave, you looked up at him, and he didn’t shy away. He wasn’t ashamed. He simply met your eyes, took one of his fingers, and - as lightly as he could - dragged the strap back into place, swallowing hard against his enormous, scruffy Adam’s apple. 

You were still watching him, looking up into his face. You licked your lips, and his eyes went straight to them. You could almost taste his desire. 

Then, the buzz of the washing machine shocked you. It rang out through the whole house, and you rose to change it over. When you thought it was safe, you snuck a peek at the couch and its owner. He was still sitting there, but his hand had moved to his crotch, and he very clearly needed to readjust himself. Luckily, you were mostly out of his view, but you stored that mental image for later. 

“Hey,” you called out, “Can I borrow your bathroom?”

“Sure. Loo’s down the hall,” he called back.

You ducked into the small room and flipped on the light, staring at yourself in the mirror and reminding yourself that he was your neighbor, you had a boyfriend (no matter how absent), and you needed to get it together.

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Honestly how do you think the sexually active characters like Angel Dust, Verosika, Valentino, Stolas would react to their lover not really caring about the sex they have but rather their relationship as lovers (Also I love your work and im not saying that to be nice your work speaks for itself, good job you earned those thousand followers)

Their reaction to an S/O that cares more about romance then Sex

Angel Dust

He was... kind of unnerved.

The idea of you wanting to be with him just for him, was kinda terrifying.

What If you got past all the glitz and glamour, All the manicured furr and fluff, and sex appeal and found... someone you didn't love.

And took a long, long time to get through that insecurity. Angel taking a lot of comforting and assurance that you, in fact, loved him for him. Not just for what he could do in the bedroom.

Honestly, when he realised as much. That you truly loved him for him and not his sexual prowess. He'd Probably break down crying.

I imagine the spider clinging to you, just bawling his eyes out. The spider clinging to you, desperately not wanting you to leave him.

He would become very protective of you, the spider finally finding someone who genuinely loved him, and was determined to keep you.

So if another bitch so much as looked at you, hed be in there face. Making sure everyone in a three block radius knows you belong to him.

Angel would tell he could be honest with you. The spider exposing his more sensitive side, allowing himself to be vulnerable with you.

The spider confided in you, able to trust you with his secrets and traumas, and there were many.

And while your relationship was not based around sex, something that made Angel smile every time he thought about it. Angel still very much enjoyed Sex.

He was a very physical person, and knowing that you didn't just love his physicality, well, that only made him more physical, specifically with you.

And every time you asked if he really wanted to do it, or if he was enjoying it, it only made him live you more, the spider feeling safe when with you.

Verosika

Verosika was, well, she is, A sex demon.

The woman was a Succubus. The most lustful, lewd and perverted beings in hell, only rivalled by Incubus and Asmodeus, obviously.

So being in a relationship with someone who wasn't really interested in sex, it was strange.

Alien really. At least for her.

She'd never met anyone who wasn't interested in her for her body. I mean, sure she'd met a lot of gay dudes and straight women, although women were a lot like spaghetti around her.

Straight until wet.

She loved that joke, and initially, when you'd asked her out, taking her to a fairly nice restaurant, she was expecting more of the same.

But out on the date and well, you spoke.

Not chit-chat, or make small talk, you actually spoke to one and other.

You told stories, spoke about your week and had a genuine conversation. It was odd for her, as the most sophisticated conversation she'd usually have was with her entourage, either about her latest escapade, or her next performance.

But she found herself actually speaking to you, telling you about things shed never really told anyone about, mostly because no one had ever asked.

Youd have a lovely meal, still chatting, before you'd walk her home. And well, you just give her a kiss, promising to do it again some time.

That had left a weird feeling in her gut, as on one hand she had really wanted to sleep with you. But on the other, she really loved that you didn't just fuck on the first date.

And you would go on another date, the two of you seeing a movie.

It was a simple rom-com, the theatre practically empty, the two of you quickly getting bored, and when Verosika asked if maybe, you'd like to "have a little fun" *Wink Wink*

Youd just politely refused, instead asking about her week. The girl once again, was taken off guard, but happily ranted about her week, the two of you having another lovely conversation.

Youd again walked her home, but this time she'd invite you in for coffee.

She had intended on seducing you, but ended up just spending your time talking again, it getting so late, she offered for you to stay over.

And while she had slunk into bed, intent on doing dirty things, she would end up dozing off curled into your side.

Youd continue on a very romantic relationship, the woman pleasantly surprised by your rather seamless relationship, the woman feeling like what you had was real.

It wasn't just a sex filled fling. It was a tender, loving and intimate romance something she admittedly took some time to get used to, but it wasn't long until she loved you as much as she knew you loved her, the woman surprisingly happy not having to have sex to keep your relationship alive.

Thats not to say you didn't have sex, because you absolutely did.

Valentino

Youd meet in a club, the two of you striking up a conversation.

He was honestly caught up by your rather charming conversational skills. You were quite the conversationalist, the Overlord quite intrigued by you, finding himself wanting to speak to you further.

Eventually he'd invite you up to his place, you happily joining him.

Youd go up to his penthouse, the Overlord proudly giving you a tour of his fancy penthouse.

You'd end up in the kitchen, the Overlord genuinely stumped at how he ended up with a cup of coffee in his hand, the two of you talking at his table.

He was surprised at how comfortable he was with you. The Overlord telling you about his day to day, ranting about all the shit he has to deal with on a daily bases with surprising ease, the man finding himself very comfortable with you.

He'd eventually ask you out, you happily accepting.

He'd take you out to a fine meal at only the finest of restaurants, the two of you having a wonderful night out.

You would talk, eat delicious food and drink even finer spirits. Afterwards you would go back to his place, and well, you'd make sweet, sweet love.

You continue seeing each other for the next few months, going out on several more dates, your relationship getting closer and closer, the man amazed at how little sex you had.

It wasn't so much the absence of sex, hed dated flinty of fridget bitched, but his reaction. He didn't mind it. Not one bit.

The man found himself loving your relationship, even though he usually despised serious relationship, instead preferring it loose and fast, bit with you, he loved your relationship.

The man felt as though your relationship actually meant something, you never all to Interested in his glamorous lifestyle.

In fact, you spent almost all time together... he dare say, being traditionally romantic and shit.

Youd go on simple, but romantic dates, and you spent great lengths just speaking, the man shocked to find how much he just needed to say shit, venting about his day.

And of course, he'd spoil you, treating you to every luxury at his disposal.

But he didn't need to. And that's what he loved about you. You enjoyed your time together just... by being together.

Stolas

Stolas was the apology of a lovable owl.

Your first meeting was very fumbly. You'd be at a royal gathering, you managing to stumble your way in, ending up at a table enjoying the free wine.

That's when you'd see the owl, the man just sitting there, staring at his drink.

Seeing him like that, you'd strike up a conversation. And while initially taken aback, the man would quickly engage in conversation, the man happily chatting with you, especially when you seemed to genuinely engage with him.

Youd talk, laugh, exchange stories and just generally enjoyed the conversation. The owl finding himself genuinely caught up in your conversation, greatly enjoying your company.

But, as they tend to do, all good things come to an end. The two of you prepared to go your separate ways as the party began to disperse.

But on an impulse decision, Stolas would ask if he could see you again. You, a little caught off guard, agreed, telling him a time and place, the owl eagerly agreeing.

It'd be a few days later when you had your first 'date', the two of you meeting up at a coffee shop, the two of you finding a booth and before chatting.

Youd had a very genuine back and forth, you asking about life as an Goetia. And of course he put up a brave face, you could tell he was putting up a brave face, it not taking a lot of pushing before he broke down a little, telling you how difficult and stressful his life was.

All the petty BS he went through every day before lunch. It could get so bad, he felt like tearing his hair out.

Hearing this, and wanting to help the poor man, you'd decide he needed to unwind.

And you would unwind by taking him out clubbing. Now your first step was a change of clothes, you getting a mismatch of what he so humbly called "peasant garb", the owl almost unrecognisable in a mismatch outfit.

Youd go to a club. You'd drink, you'd dance, Stolas being absolutely free to be himself. And he would go ape.

By the end of the night, the Owl would be totally exhausted, and loved it. The owl grabbing you and giving you a big kiss, the man thanking you.

Youd welcome the man, before kissing him back, the two of you spending the night together.

That would mark the beginning of your relationship. And a romantic relationship it was.

Your relationship was very much based on romance, you and your owl absolutely loving each other.

Youd meet up a few times a week, usually at a bar or Cafe, the two of you spending hours upon hours just speaking.

Youd listen as he ranted about his day, or lamented on an aspect of his life. You happy to listen or give advice, explaining it from your perspective.

And while these conversations were all good, your bonding time really came when you went out.

Now granted, you had to be subtle about it, but you'd often go out together, usually with Stolas in more "peasant garb". Not wanting to get attention in his royal garb.

You went to parks, to movies, Stolas especially like bargain shopping. Going through used and obviously stolen goods, you'd often have contests on who could find the weirdest things, Stolas somehow winning most of the time. The man usually keeping the strange item as a memento.

You had such a romantic relationship, the two of you opening up on a very intimate level.

The man found a confidant in you, the man venting, opening up to you about his deepest darkest secrets.

The man confiding in you about his forced marriage, or his abysmal relationship with his father, big shocker from a noble I know. Or how Octavia was the only truly good thing in his life.

If Stolas prayed to anyone, you'd be the answer to those prays.

Youd be exactly what the man needed, allowing him some much needed intimacy, the man absolutely adoring his time with you.

And of course, you'd have sex. But your sex was always tender, loving and deeply intimate.

Youd truly, make love.