#when i was a kid i wrote my name really tiny in pen on a baseboard in my room and it’ll probably still be there whenever i move out

[magnus-rhymes-with-swagness]

[guy who gets overly attached to everything voice] idk why i get overly attached to everything haha

[scoops-aboy86]

By The Heart (Secret Admirer pt 2)

Steddie Week 2024, July 2: Hands / touch starved / Invisible Touch by Genesis

wc: 2136 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

After the world fell apart a second time in November of ‘84, Steve had finished out the rest of his senior year in a daze. Partly because Billy Hargrove had broken a fucking plate over his head, giving him a small scar by his hairline that the doctor said would fade and recurring headaches that the doctor said might stick around anywhere from a few months to forever. 

It’s been more than a few months and the headaches are only slightly less frequent and a tiny bit less severe. 

He graduated, barely. His dad keeps dropping pointed comments about how his parents let him stay in their house rent-free after high school, how he’d saved up while attending a nearby college by not having to worry about the cost of a dorm or basic meals, and that it is his gratitude towards them that has moved him to offer the same to Steve. Usually said comments come after Steve tries to sidestep some sort of menial task, and it always feels like a threat.Steve just grits his teeth and takes it—refills his dad’s drink when the bottle is already literally right by the man’s hand, washes the family car after dinner when both his parents know that Steve has a shift at Scoops first thing in the morning, whatever. He can’t afford to get kicked out right now. 

His job at Scoops Ahoy is shit, all bright fluorescent lights and kids screaming and everything getting sticky for a measly minimum wage, but that probably reflects the quality of the job application he’d submitted. 

He has no friends, no prospects, no one in his corner except a bunch of incoming freshmen and the only one who really seems to want him around is off at some sort of smart people camp that he’d never even heard of… Go figure. 

But he has Secret Admirer. 

Okay, what Steve has is a pen pal who has a PO box and prefers to remain anonymous, possibly because Steve is an embarrassing person to have a crush on these days. And it’s really stupid that he thinks of them as first name Secret, last name Admirer, but it’s not like he hasn’t tried to come up with better names! Unfortunately, there are so many things Secret Admirer has called him (sweetheart, darling, dearest, honey, baby) that he can’t really think of anything original with those constantly rotating in his head… He can’t use them, though. It’d be weird. 

The first letter had been shoved into his locker in the last few weeks of school, looking like someone either wrote it with their non-dominant hand or had also suffered a blow to the head recently, and he hadn’t known what to make of it at first. In fact, he’d considered the possibility that Tommy or Billy were playing some sort of prank on him… but he didn’t think either of them could write “To Steve, the heart of my heart” without bursting into homophobic flames, and if it was Carol she would’ve done her girliest handwriting with hearts dotting the eyes. And his Secret Admirer had mentioned things no one else in his life seemed to care about. 

Like, 

I hope you’re feeling better. Sometimes I notice you squinting or grimacing in the classes we have in common… Are you still getting headaches? Do you get enough rest? You probably already know this, but mental and physical rest are super important for getting your handsome self all recovered, big boy. 

And,

I had a concussion once, not a bad one but it really left an impression. Felt like I was trying to think through a head full of soup for weeks. It sucks that teachers didn’t seem to cut you much slack because, just saying, I noticed they used to do that a lot more when you were still on the basketball and swim teams. Jock privilege placed above consideration of an actual, serious injury? I’m sorry, but that’s the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril, sweetheart, and you deserve better. 

So, yeah. Clearly his Secret Admirer is a nerd who doesn’t necessarily have the best opinion of jocks… but still took the time to notice all those things and write kindly about them. It felt nice, knowing that at least one person out there noticed, maybe even cared. 

And when that letter turned out not to be a one-off, a few more letters in his locker and then one in his mailbox, postmarked and everything, after graduation? Steve was hooked, enough to start writing self-consciously back. 

Which has brought him to the point of wanting so badly to meet this person that he’s stooped to begging, and it’s not even getting him anywhere. 

It’s occurred to him that it could be a guy, of course it has. Steve might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knows it happens. He’d had a friend in middle school, Todd Fischer, nice guy, totally normal kid—got caught kissing some boy in the next grade up behind the gym and turned out to be the worst sprinter of the two. The Fischers had moved out of Hawkins a few weeks later and Steve hadn’t heard anything from or about Todd since. They’d been halfway through reading Romeo & Juliet in English at the time, and Steve remembers thinking when they got to the end of the play that at least things hadn’t gone that badly for Todd and whoever the other kid was. He’s old enough now to know that it could have; between Todd being such a nice kid, Barb dying in his own backyard, and the threat of government agents coming out of the woodwork if he ever breathes a word about certain secrets, the thought leaves a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. 

Anyway, if it is a guy, that would explain why Secret Admirer keeps dancing around his pleas to meet. And the initially disguised handwriting—which had been dropped by the second mailed letter, along with a brief, sheepish apology. 

But it could also be a girl who’s really shy or something. Steve doesn’t want to assume and then look like a total idiot further down the road. Whoever it is, all Steve knows is that he doesn’t want to lose them. He has to play this smart, play it cool… because he knows himself, and already knows that they have him by the heart based on words alone. 

The latest letter is in his hands, crinkled a little at the edges, and Steve can’t help himself from rereading the fifth paragraph yet again. 

… those indecently tiny shorts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running my fingers up the inside of those thighs. Or my mouth. Whichever you think you’d like best, baby, I’m not picky. And while I do like ice cream, particularly strawberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone, I can think of something else I’d love to wrap my hand around and run my tongue over before any drips can escape. You just think about that, hmm? Maybe share some of those thoughts in your reply, if I haven’t scared you off…

He’s not scared off. Doesn’t need to know exactly who put pen to paper to imagine hands and lips running up his legs, either, an invisible touch that sends shivers along his spine. 

Okay, maybe it’s been a while. Between striking out from behind the Scoops counter and not really trying all that hard anyway, the only action Steve’s seen is from his own hand… and this letter. He has thoughts, alright, but has a much better idea of how to translate them into action than words. And this is his problem with the whole pen pal only thing, his natural charm (if he has any left) is absolutely useless in this medium. 

The other problem is that he really, really wants to jerk off about this, except he’s got almost no details to fuel the fantasy. He knows that Secret Admirer had a concussion once, but not what color or length or texture or style their hair is; knows they’re on the fringes of popularity and not really into sports, but nothing about their height or build or how they might move against him. Hell, he doesn’t even know if they’re a girl or a guy, isn’t sure if he should try to imagine boobies and painted nails or stubbled cheeks and big hands. 

Secret Admirer has mentioned being a smoker though, of both tobacco and grass, and Steve is not exactly proud of how strongly this makes him want a cigarette just because it’s all he has to go on. He has work in under an hour and Robin hates the smell of cigarettes, will be extra vicious for their entire shift if he comes in reeking of smoke. 

He’ll have to figure out something else…

Dear Secret Admirer, Thanks for writing again, I was really glad to get your letter. I don’t sleep with them under my pillow because sometimes my pillow ends up on the floor and I don’t want to drool all over them. I keep them in a box in the back of my closet, because sometimes my parents have the cleaning lady do my bedroom without telling me and I don’t want her going through my stuff or putting it in weird places that I can never find again.  Sorry for laughing at you You must not have seen me last week when I threw a banana peel at my coworker for It’s not being humble if I don’t deserve Yeah, fuck high school.  Sorry for not rewriting this, I’m running out of paper and my dad’ll kill me if I break into his office to get more I definitely thought about what you said in your last letter. I thought about it a lot. It’s hard to figure out how to explain what though, because I wanted to picture you like you were probably picturing me when you were writing it. You obviously know what I look like, but I don’t know who you are so I had to get creative. (Which isn’t my strong suit. So if this is stupid maybe we could just never mention it again?) Since I don’t know what you look like and it’d be weird to try and picture you anyway, and then what if I’m not even close and that makes it seem like I don’t like you for who you are? I’m not sure if that makes sense. But anyway, since I don’t know what you look like I pictured you dressed like a ninja.  Hear me out, okay? You’re such a mystery. Ninjas are mysterious, and dressed all black to blend in with the shadows. You can’t see their hair or face and they wear gloves because you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. I guess what I’m saying is I imagined you sneaking into my room at night when the lights are off. Totally silent but with this powerful presence, you know? I think if I were in the same room as you it’d feel like that moment right before the whistle goes off at a swim meet, because that’s just like, holy shit it’s about to happen and your muscles are all tense but ready but you’re waiting, coiled like a snake. So I’m coiled like a snake and you’re still a ninja and I’m not very good at this. I’ve done it over the phone a few times but that’s different. I don’t know where I’m going with this just sitting writing this alone in my room with Genesis playing in the background so I’m going to stop. Just trust me, it was hot. If you ever want to exchange numbers I’d be happy to tell you all about it sometime.  It feels weird to end like that, so I’ll also tell you that I tried reading that Hobbit book you suggested and you were right, it’s a lot easier than the Rings book that the kids I babysit tried to bully me into reading. Bibo is freaking out about all these dwarves in his house and I can relate, it sounds like when those kids all show up and try to rope me into driving them around town. At least they haven’t tried to make me steal anything or try to take on a damn dragon yet. Hopefully this book won’t give them any ideas.  — Steve PS If that was so dumb you changed your mind about still writing to me, please let me down easy. Seriously it would be no hard feelings. At least I still have a great ass and great hair, so I’ve got that going for me.

Tag list (open): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @thetinymm

@practicallybegging @fuzzyduxk @greatwerewolfbeliever

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 31 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley knows there's only one way to contend with what Carl did, and he will gladly do it for you. All he wants is his house, his kid and his girl. You on the other hand don't know quite how to deal with anything that's going on, because it all seems out of your control. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, fighting, blood, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

You were so anxious for your first day of work, you actually woke up way too early and spilled blazing hot coffee all over your scrubs, forcing you to make a detour back to the bedroom to get changed. All you seemed to be able to think about was that video. That goddamn video. You wished you never looked in that box in the attic.

Once again, you were on the verge of tears as you pulled on a clean top and went to wake Noah up for the day. Everything felt like too much right now unless he was with you. The fact that you were as dependent on Noah as he was on you was probably nothing to brag about, but he really lit up every time you read to him or made him food. And you felt much better inside when he was snuggled up with you or holding your hand. 

You felt like his mom. You felt like you belonged here with him. He trusted you to take care of him, and you always would. But your confidence where Bradley was concerned felt stunted now, and you couldn't even talk to him about it. If you were even strong enough to bring it up at all. 

Noah climbed out of bed and went right to you for a hug, never questioning if he was welcome with you. "Morning, sweet Noah," you whispered against his soft hair. "Did you have happy dreams?"

He yawned and said, "Yeah. I was a pink dinosaur, and all of the other dinosaurs were afraid of me. So I got to eat all the Skittles."

"Wow," you said with a laugh as you carried him into the kitchen for breakfast. "That's the best dream I've ever heard of."

"Yeah, I know." 

He ate some eggs while you successfully drank your coffee and vanilla creamer without spilling it this time. And when you dropped him off at daycare, the same girl was working at the front desk.

"Hi, Noah," she said sweetly before handing you the clipboard to sign with a bland expression. You kissed Noah on the cheek and watched him walk in with the other kids before you signed your name. "And will you be picking him up again today, or should we be expecting another babysitter?"

You froze, and a startled laugh escaped your lips. "I'll be picking him up. And I'm the only babysitter." She appraised you again, so you added, "Only the best for Lieutenant Bradshaw and his son," before you spun on your heel and strolled out to the parking lot. 

You were driving the Bronco. You were in charge of Noah. Bradley was acting like some sort of sugar daddy boyfriend with the credit card you had tucked in your wallet. You shouldn't have been feeling insecure at all. You tried not to think about anything except getting to work on time for your first day. 

And being out of the house did help. You met all of the doctors and other nurses, and some of them were your age. Dr. Kelly treated you to lunch, and you got to chat with her a bit. You learned you'd get to assist with a few special needs kids later in the week. It was exciting. You had your own tiny workspace. Being there occupied your mind. 

But when you were asked to fill out a small stack of new hire paperwork in the afternoon, your pen stopped on the page multiple times. You hesitated twice before you eventually wrote Bradley's address as your own. You wrote his name and phone number down as your emergency contact, but you felt ridiculous writing 'boyfriend' where it asked for your relationship to him. After a brief debate, you wrote it anyway and moved on. And a beneficiary for your life insurance? Well, you didn't really have anyone else, so you put Noah. 

And then when you handed everything back in, you felt kind of like you were pretending to be an adult. 

----------------------------

Bradley waited on his bunk for Carl to return. It was getting late, and he wondered where the fuck he was. Without completely dismantling the tiny room, Bradley had searched through as much of Carl's shit as he could. And that was after confirming that he was only missing the one polaroid that you sent with him. 

His ears were ringing. Fingers twitching. He was absolutely repulsed by the thought of anyone else looking at that picture. But especially Carl. That was a line you just didn't cross with a bunkmate. Bradley had seen some wild shit in his days, walked in on some things he wished he could unsee. But you simply did not mess with personal items. And you certainly didn't take anything under any circumstances without permission. And if it was anything pertaining to a wife, girlfriend or significant other, it was absolutely forbidden. 

And if you broke any of these unwritten rules, well... you should know what you were in for. 

When Bradley heard a key in the door close to midnight, his hands automatically curled into fists. Your pretty face popped into his mind, smiling up at him, a teasing smirk on your lips. Even though you weren't here, you deserved to be defended right now. He'd protect you and Noah until he used up his dying breath. And that just meant things weren't looking too hot for Carl at the moment. 

The other man strolled in wearing his gym clothes, and it struck Bradley that Carl was probably a little older than he was. He was in good shape, too, but that wouldn't stop Bradley from beating the absolute shit out of him if necessary. 

"What's up, Carl?" he asked, remaining seated with his fists planted on either side of him on the bed. When Carl seemed barely able to meet his eyes, Bradley knew for sure.

"Hey," he replied awkwardly. "Just wanted to hit the gym when it was empty."

Bradley just watched him for a few seconds, silently demanding eye contact. When Carl finally stopped bumbling around and met his eyes, Bradley slowly stood. "Where is it?"

Carl's eyes flashed with panic as Bradley rolled his shoulders and took a step closer in the already limited space. "What? What are you talking about?" He tried to back away, but there was really nowhere to go. 

"If you make me ask again, it's going to be a lot worse for you, man."

"I... I..." Carl's eyes followed Bradley's left hand as he loosened his fist. And then Bradley slammed him back against the door. 

"You know better," Bradley growled. "This isn't your first deployment. You know the rules. And it belongs to me. Where. Is. It?"

"The photo?" Carl whispered as Bradley pressed the heel of his hand against his sternum with even more pressure. 

Bradley raised his voice. "Where the hell is it? It better have never left this fucking room."

"I have it!" Carl swore, and Bradley released him.

"Get it," Bradley said as calmly as he could, but his voice was shaking. He watched Carl dig around in his bedding, procuring the photo of you and your perfect tits and your barely concealed pussy. Bradley had a flashback to Noah's birthday party when Jake kissed you. Then he pictured you at the fraternity house, drunk and helpless. Carl was about to pay a pretty large price. 

"Here," he grunted, extending the polaroid out to Bradley. Once he set it down on top of his dresser, making sure the photo was still perfect, he turned back to Carl and sucker punched him right on the nose. 

Blood was gushing onto his gym shirt as Bradley said, "That's fucked up, Carl. You had my photo in your bed."

He was holding his nose, looking at Bradley with guilty eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"That's my girl, you piece of shit." Bradley was seething as he rammed Carl back up against the door. 

"She's your girl?" he asked, trying to stop the bleeding with both hands now. "She looks barely legal. How old is she?"

Bradley released him and took a step back before he did more damage than he intended to. "Do you really think it's a good idea to ask me that, Carl? You probably jerked it to my girlfriend after you stole my photo, and now you're asking me how old she is?" He was panting, letting the rage flow through him, and then both hands curled into fists again.

"Shit, I didn't- I wasn't-"

"You're not very bright, are you?" Bradley asked, cutting him off. "I'll let you walk out of this room with your face mostly intact as long as you guarantee that you'll wear your bruises around this carrier without even so much as looking in my direction. And don't you dare visit the infirmary. Your indiscretion doesn't blow back on me. You got it?"

Carl looked resigned as he lowered his hands from his face and nodded. "Yeah. I got it."

Then Bradley landed one more punch, hard as hell, and Carl staggered around the room for a few seconds before he managed to take himself out into the hallway and toward the bathroom. Bradley carefully picked up his polaroid, and his heart ached. He was yours, and he'd have done anything to see your beautiful face in person right now.

And if Carl didn't so much as speak to him or look at him again for the rest of the deployment, it would be just fine with Bradley.

-------------------------

You always felt like you were rushing around. When you got out of work an hour early one Wednesday, you decided to use the time to go grocery shopping before you picked up Noah. It was easier to get just the necessities this way. The downside was that you were definitely getting lost in your own thoughts as you stood in the produce area selecting apples. 

It was almost a relief that Bradley hadn't contacted you yet. If you had to look him in the eye right now, you weren't sure you could do it without crying. That USB drive was currently on top of the refrigerator where you couldn't see it, but it was still enough to upset you when you thought about it. But at the same time, you missed your boyfriend and wanted him to come home, and you knew Noah would benefit from talking to him.

You wasted so much time looking at fucking apples that you were going to be late if you didn't get going. You winced as you used the purple princess credit card to pay for the food, and then you organized everything in the back of the Bronco. You loved driving it and briefly wondered if he'd still let you after he got home. 

You pulled into the gas station that was just a few blocks from Noah's daycare, once again using Bradley's credit card. You sighed as you inserted the card for payment and then started to fill the tank. And then you looked up toward the next row of pumps, and you were sure you knew that BMW. A second later, you met Meredith's gaze, and a chill went through your body.

You were afraid your voice was going to shake, but you called out, "You're not supposed to come near me."

She laughed maliciously. "This is a gas station, and I was here first. So maybe you should stay away from me."

"With pleasure," you snarled. You had to close your eyes against the sick feeling that rose inside you. Naked. You could picture her naked. Bradley used to love her. 

"You already ruined my life," Meredith snapped. "So your little restraining order stunt really doesn't matter to me." Then she was climbing into her car, and you watched her peel out of the parking lot and into traffic, heading in the opposite direction from Noah's daycare. 

Your hands were unsteady as you finished up at the gas pump. She was right; she had been at the gas station first. She was with Bradley first. She was Noah's mom before you ever came into the picture as his babysitter. She was everywhere, and she wouldn't go away.

----------------------

Bradley emailed you days ago to let you know he would be able to FaceTime with you and Noah tonight, but you'd only written back, "Sounds good." You didn't give him any updates. You didn't call him Daddy. You didn't say anything else. 

Sounds good.

He grunted as he worked out in the gym. The sooner he could get this deployment completed and get home, the better. Carl's face was starting to look better now, but Bradley smiled every time he saw the bruises. He had no idea what excuse the other man had given for looking like a raccoon with two black eyes and a bent nose, and he didn't really fucking care. If anyone assumed he was the one who caused the bruising, they probably also assumed it was warranted. 

Those polaroids were wrapped up and put away now. But Bradley wanted the real thing. Your body and your voice. He'd been thinking about how insufficient it felt to call you his girlfriend. Just the same way you'd always felt like more than Noah's babysitter to them. But now with your lack of a real response, Bradley felt a little foolish for thinking about proposing to you. 

When it was time to make the call home, he sighed deeply. And when you answered your phone on the living room couch, your expression was hesitant. 

"Princess," he rasped, holding the iPad with both hands. "Baby. I miss you."

It felt like an eternity before you responded. "We miss you, too." 

He had so much he wanted to say and talk about, but your voice was just a little too soft, and your eyes were just a little too sad. "What's wrong?" he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

"Here. Talk to Noah." And then you were out of the frame, and Noah was there. Bradley laughed as he talked about daycare and making something called peanut butter snails and going for hikes. He held up some of the coloring sheets he had worked on, and Bradley noted that you had dated all of them. You always did little things like that. Now he'd be able to see which days his son worked on the coloring sheets when he got home. 

"I miss you so much, bub."

"Will you come home soon?" Noah asked, and Bradley's heart absolutely melted. 

"Really soon. And we can go to the beach and maybe take a little vacation, okay? Now can you sit with Princess so I can talk to her, too?"

And then you were immediately back in the frame and scooping Noah onto your lap. So you must have been standing right there the whole time. 

"That's better," Bradley sighed. His house, his kid, his girl. "You have no idea how much I wish I was on that couch with you." 

You smiled softly. "Do you know when you'll be back?"

"I'm not sure, Baby. Not soon enough. Tell me about work."

So you indulged him in a few stories, and it sounded like you fit in there. You liked your coworkers, especially Dr. Kelly. You loved all the kids you got to talk to and care for all day. But you still seemed a little distant.

"Are you sleeping okay?" he asked. "Any issues?"

You pressed a kiss to Noah's cheek and said, "We just miss you. That's all."

"We want you to come home," Noah whined. 

"Please?" you added softly. 

"So soon," he reiterated, wishing he could give you both a kiss. "Watch for my emails?"

"I will," you promised. 

"I love you. Both of you."

Then you and Noah said in unison, "I love you, too." And then he had to end the call.

------------------------

Well it was done now. You were on your way to get the last few things from your place with Noah before you turned your key over to your landlord. Or former landlord. You were done paying rent here, and now you could start helping Bradley pay his mortgage. In fact, he would be home in a few days, and you'd talk to him about it then. There were actually a lot of things you wanted to have a conversation about.

"Do you remember when you came here for dinner? And I made you spaghetti in my little kitchen?"

"That was a long time ago," Noah insisted, and you held his hand as you walked up the sidewalk. "You live at my house now."

"Yep," you replied softly as you let go of his hand and dug around in your bag for the key you hardly ever used now. "Let's just hope that makes your Daddy happy and not annoyed since I never really gave him a verbal answer," you mumbled, finally locating the key. 

As you shoved it into the lock, Noah knelt down and picked something up from the porch. "What's this?" he asked, reaching his hand up to you.

Your eyes went wide. "Drop it," you said right away, and he let the piece of broken glass fall back to the porch. But there was more. Both of you were standing in it, and when you reached to turn the knob, there must have been a shard there.

"Shit," you gasped as your right palm started bleeding. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you kicked the door fully open. One of the panes of glass in the door had been smashed, and there was more of the mess on the floor inside. "Don't touch anything," you hissed, and Noah started crying. 

You kept him close enough to take a few pictures as soon as you were able to fumble with your phone. You took seven photos of all the glass plus the item that had been left. For you. It was just a dollar store coloring book, but there was a note on top of it written in crayon. Have fun playing house.

It had to have been from Meredith. Who else could have done it? She was already claiming you ruined her life. And ever since you saw her at the gas station, you were nervous that wasn't the last of her.

Blood was starting to pool a little bit in your upturned palm, and there wasn't much you could do at the moment except for ruin your shirt. "Let's get out of here," you whispered, and the two of you walked back across the porch, the glass crunching beneath your feet. 

You were able to buckle Noah with one hand, but even when you got back to Bradley's house, you were still bleeding. And the glass needed to be removed. So you finally caved and called Natasha. 

"I kind of need your help," you told her vaguely over the phone.

She laughed in response. "I kind of need a lot of things. What can I do for you?"

"Can you come by and help me remove a piece of glass from my dominant hand?"

"Fuck. Of course. I'm on my way," she replied, all tones of joking  gone. 

She was there in less than fifteen minutes, and she washed her hands right away. Then she used the sterilized tweezers that you handed to her to carefully remove the glass. "Just the one piece?" she asked, meeting your eyes. 

"I think so. I already checked Noah really thoroughly."

Nat's expression darkened. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

You were pressing some gauze against your palm now. You might need stitches. You would probably benefit from getting stitches. But you couldn't do them yourself with your left hand, and you didn't want to leave Noah right now. Not even with Nat. He was watching a Mickey Mouse cartoon on the couch, and you didn't want him further away from you than that. 

"It was just some broken glass," you replied. 

"Here?" she asked, looking around the kitchen.

"No. At my old place. It's fine. I just need to tell my landlord about it, and I'll replace it." You were amazed how easily you were able to keep your voice steady. 

"Right," Nat replied with an unamused look. "Bradley will be home in a couple days? Do you want me to stay here until he's back?"

"Of course not. We're fine," you insisted, averting your gaze.

She stood to leave and sighed deeply. "Please call me back if you need anything, okay? And do us both a favor and don't lie to Bradley when you pick him up."

You pressed your lips together and nodded. "I won't," you said softly. And after she left, you took Noah into bed with you and snuggled him tight. 

---------------------

I hate Carl. I hate Meredith. I want Daddy to come home. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 32

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[starliit]

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get to know the author behind the blog! repost, do not reblog.

basics .

name/nickname: rook; ryan age: 30 pronouns : he/they years of writing : uh....many. I think I picked up writing either stories or poetry at a very young age, probably early elementary school (so like...age 8-10) probably soon after the concept of stringing together sentences into storytelling made sense to me.

reflection .

why did you pick up writing? it's been so long, i don't think i really remember. i was an avid reader back then though and full of trauma and a drive to escape - so i think it was my way of therapy in a time when i couldn't get it and it spiraled from there.

do you have any writing routines? not set in stone. even when nano comes round and I TRY to have a routine, it doesn't work. I do have little tiny routines when I sit down and I'm really in the mood to do my drafts - I'll get some water/soda, start a playlist based on what I'm writing and dive in. But that's the closest to a routine that I've got.

what's your favorite part about writing? it's an escape. not only for me - but for the people that read it (or so I hope). growing up i've always been an avid supporter for storytelling and how cultures have their different ways of passing down stories and how you so easily get lost in them. but also for me, it's definitely a way to safely and more appropriately sort out my own feelings about certain things going on in my life. it's definitely a type of therapy for sure.

three things you like about your writing. hoo boy uh...

i personally like my character building. kaveh is my first functional canon character in a very long time, but otherwise I'm an oc writer and I personally believe that I fabricate pretty decently outlined backgrounds for my characters that make them delicious for people to interact with. just my personal take anyway askdjlaskj further i'm really in love with my descriptions of a character's actions, like how they go about doing things, particularly the use of their hands. Uh....this is hard kids. I like that it contains a part of myself in it to be honest. Like sometimes people get worried about projecting onto a character and sometimes I do too, but like...I write characters and themes I relate to, and if you see the author inside the muse - particularly my ocs, I think I've done my job.

have you ever given up on writing? Not exactly. Even when I'm not roleplaying, I'm probably writing either bits of my novels or one-shots for other characters. The only time I've ever taken a serious writing break was during a really low, stressful point in my life where I wasn't doing ANYTHING but working and sleeping to be honest. There wasn't any time to do anything else.

But like mercyburned said: just because I take a break or don't have writing mojo doesn't take away the fact that I'm a writer. I always come back. I think to give up on it would require I never come back and I always crawl right back. sldslkd

a question for the next person .

LORI's QUESTION: if you could give advice to someone just beginning their foray into writing, what three things would you tell them?

You're going to come back to something you wrote in a few months or years and you're going to think it sucks - this does not mean you were a bad writer when you wrote it. It simply means you've progressed over time. Better writing does not mean you were bad before.

Not everyone is going to like what you write and that's okay. You don't like everything you read either, and if you say you do you're a liar. Write for the folks who DO enjoy your stuff, don't burn yourself out trying to please everyone. It's not going to work.

You don't need anything fancy to be a writer. A nice laptop, a cool pen or notebook - these are all nice things to have, but you can write on a receipt paper if it's what you have. Your set up does not a writer make.

write a question for the next person to answer. once you've answered it, leave a new question for someone else to answer.

next question: What are your favorite themes to work into your writing?

tagging: @glacialswordsman @sncwlight @fortifice @papilio-anima @dhabibi & you tagged by: stole it from @mercyburned

[aliciaclarkwrites]

MERRY CHRISTMAS. I woke up at 8am with feelings, wrote this, and promptly fell back asleep.

The quiet of the room was interrupted only by the sound of Louis’ fingers hitting his laptop keys. It was still the early hours of Sunday morning and he had dragged himself out from under the sleeping form of Wardo, his dark hair mussed from where Louis’ fingers had been carding through it the night before. Seeing him there had almost given Louis pause, but he knew falling back asleep now meant risking losing the idea flitting around his head.

So here he was, vigorously penning his next book, laptop balanced on his knees and a cup of coffee steadily cooling at his side. Engrossed as he was, he barely heard the sound of the living room door creaking open, followed by tiny footsteps.

His daughter, tiny, boisterous, every inch her Dad and her Aunt, began to clamber into his lap, shoving at his laptop to make room for herself. Louis found it hard sometimes to draw boundaries, knew the right thing to do was probably to tell her firmly that Daddy was working. Instead, he merely set the laptop to one side and allowed Edie to snuggle in against his chest.

“What’re you doin’ up, baby?” Louis murmured, gently tucking her hair behind her ear. Edie, instead of giving a proper answer, shrugged in the noncommittal way she sometimes did.

Edie lapsed into silence after that, dropping her head so her cheek lay firmly against his chest, just over his heartbeat. She was quiet and still for so long, in a way a child raised by Wardo Martinelli never was, that Louis assumed she’d fallen back asleep. He attuned himself to the quiet rise and fall of her chest, thinking about the best way to carry her back to bed. Although, selfishly, he was happy to let her lay there, his arm going numb under the weight of his little girl.

“How come some of your books say Denver?” he heard her murmur, the words vibrating against his chest. So she wasn’t asleep then, just eerily silent. Louis followed her line of sight to their communal bookshelf, overstuffed and crammed with their favorite volumes. Poetry and prose, of course, and then a shelf dedicated to the works of both men. International editions and brand new covers and early reader copies. Louis never figured that one day his books would be joined by copies of Goodnight, Moon and The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, but it made him feel oddly satisfied to see Edie’s books, new and old, cluttering the bookshelf with those of her Dads.

“Cause that was my name, before I married your Dad.” Louis explained easily, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Edie’s back. He felt rather than saw her frown, and then she lifted her head, and was confronted with the full weight of her tiny scowl.

“Why’d you change it?” she asked, an accusatory tone colouring her words. Louis resisted the urge to laugh, bringing up his finger to smooth the furrow between her brow.

“What do you mean? ‘Cause sometimes when grown ups get married, they change their name. And because I love your Dad, stupid.”

He giggled to show her he meant no harm. Louis didn’t want to dissuade her line of questioning, but ever since Edie had been little, Louis and Wardo had never really spoken to her like she was a kid. It seemed counterproductive to coddle her, growing up in the household she did. Still, she was Louis’ baby, and he treated her as such.

“Do I have to change my name when I get married?” Edie asked, and there it was. The reason behind her disgust.

“Not if you don’t wanna. It’s a bit different for girls, shouldn’t be, but you can do whatever you want. When we were engaged, we talked about doing both our names. Like Denver-Martinelli, you know? Or I could’ve kept mine, ‘cause of my book.”

He paused to check Edie was following, and she nodded softly. Her small hands were now cradling his face, coaxing gently through his beard. Forgetting himself, he pressed a small kiss to her forehead.

“But you took Dad’s? ‘Cause you love him?” she asked.

Louis nodded, the last unspoken reason sitting on the tip of his tongue. He tugged Edie in closer, her tiny forehead pressed against his own and she laughed her sweet laugh, the one that made Louis think his chest was gonna crack in two.

“And I figured maybe one day… if I was real lucky, we might have you. And I wanted us all to be Martinelli together.”

Even as close as she was, Louis could see the way the smile grew on her face. Edie was a fucking wonder. Try telling Louis Denver, tired, scared, closeted kid that he was, that one day it would be Sunday morning, and he’d be holding his little girl a little too tight, and telling her the story of how he married her Dad, and hoped for her. He wouldn’t have believed you.

“You shouldn’t change your name unless you really, really want to, Edie, baby. ‘Cause it’s a special name. Your Dad picked it all for himself and then he shared it with me, and then we shared it with you.”

Edie nodded thoughtfully, a small yawn on her lips. Right before she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, she breathed, “M’’gonna be Edie Martinelli forever.”

Louis stood, coffee cold now, carrying his near-sleeping daughter to the comfort of their bedroom. His husband still lay flat on his back, the early morning light making him look so beautiful, dreaming easy. Louis gently deposited their daughter in the bed next to him, where she rolled over and clung to her Dad like a monkey, her fingers coming up to brush his face. Louis watched Wardo stir slightly, his eyes opening briefly to register the gangly limbs of their daughter encroaching on him, before pressing a quick kiss to her tiny fingertips and settling back down to sleep.

Louis silently clambered in bedside them. Writing could wait. It was Sunday morning, and his daughter was asleep in bed, sandwiched between himself and the love of his life. Yeah, writing could wait.

[skyjordanhorror]

Imposter Syndrome

Imposter syndrome... what do you do as a writer to get past it? I've got a novella and three shorts on Amazon. I just realized I've not properly managed my horror story page, so three are on the wrong pen name and my horror one isn't updated. And the root of it is because I don't feel good enough to share anything. Which is why I have more works saved on my computer than you can shake a stick at. Most of which aren't shared. All of which I want to... but can't seem to make myself do. I did figure out where it stems from for me. In first grade my teacher gave us all an assignment to write a story. We had a week. I spent what seemed like forever typing away on my grandfather's computer, the first home one we had (remember those things with the huge floppy discs?!) and my folks patiently helped me spell. I was six, so it was a kid's story about a talking flower, but I was so proud. And my teacher promptly humiliated me in class. She called me a liar, said I copied it, and it was impossible that I wrote it. I wasn't good enough at anything to write something like that and didn't I know better to attempt it? And so on. My family was livid. I was crushed. And never wrote again for years. I went from "writing" my grandmother stories (series of circles in crayon anyone?) when I was tiny to refusing to tell a single story even to a stuffed toy if anyone might hear. In the upper grades I wrote out of boredom because I was finished with work and everyone else wasn't, but never shared usually. And it's still there! It affects everything. Even attempting to create a business like I really, really would like to as a virtual assistant. It's like hitting an invisible wall in a game - you want to go that way, you truly do, but there is no way forward. My area doesn't have a lot of counseling, certainly nothing easily affordable, but am looking into options. In the meantime, what are you best suggestions as fellow writers (or whatever) to deal with it?

[iseedean]

Q: Have you heard from Dean lately?

A: Yes, he wrote to me a few days ago and it was very Impressive.

Gotta luv a guy who isn't afraid to cry when given a balloon by a

passing clown. Someone who loves kittens and keeps several in his short

pockets at any given time. Someone who still knows why it was called

the BIG band era and who can give you the name of any dixie rag time

song after hearing just a few notes. Someone who has single handedly

funded the NAAMP (national assoc. for the advancement of mime

professionals) who's motto "A mime is a terrible thing to waste" was

penned by him. You don't get a lot of thanks from people like mimes.

Among their community his name is rarely spoken. He is an unsung hero.

Someone who fought the injustice and censorship to have the scripts for

the "Lost in Space" tv show entered into the congressional record by

lobbying congressman Sonny Bonno to use them for several Republican

fillibusters. Who painstakingly highlighted each line of dialogue by

Dr. Smith on those same transcripts for emphasis. What else can I say

about Dean? Nude bungie jumper? Ventriloquist extrodinaire?

Hemophiliac? Liver eating advocate? Survivor of Waco and can laugh

about it? A man who speaks in palidromes accidentaly? (I can remember

him saying to me, "You know John, there are *So Many Dynamos*.) A man

who can name all of the Banana Splits and can recite their biographys

with intimacy? A man who, through a single symbolic act, riveted the

worlds attention by releasing thousands of golden hamsters in Golden

Gate Park with the song "Bless the Beasts & the Children" playing in the

background. Who also endured such hardship from a law suit by the

Winchester Dog Show which was disrupted by said hamster release in the

park.

If you want to know what one thing I am hearing from Dean these days, it

would have to be this,

"Life is a stage.

Make a dramatic entrance.

Be kind to the extras, the little people.

Don't pay the actors more than union scale.

Keep your best profile forward.

Avoid overtly dramatic lighting

like the kind they use in bank commercials.

(It's really annoying.)

Touch greatness.

If you can't touch it then buy

a life size replica of greatness and touch that.

Billy Jean is not my lover.

she's just a girl that says that

I am the one but the kid is not my son.

Make a grand exit.

Make sure that when you make that exit you don't cut off anyone like

the guy I saw this morning driving to work. I got so

ticked that I grabbed the nearest thing I could get my hands

on and threw it at him. Now we'll see how he will explain all of

that

kitten blood on his windshield!"

At this point Dean stopped and stood silently for about 10 minutes and

after some grimacing he pulled a tiny golden bottle from his pocket,

carefully unsealed it, and holding it up to his right eye he shed into

it a single tear. He said "I am saving this for all those people who

can't cry." I am that person he was refering to. He gave me that bottle

and I keep it around my neck at all times.

Long live Dean. May his legacy be as long as this e-mail. (Written in 1997)

[reallyromealone]

Could we get a ohshc fix with babe reader where like reader is kyoya little brother and the little brother is at the host club with like a baby version of kyoyas black notebook and he like won’t let the other host members touch it but when you look at it it’s just little doodles of each member

Yesyesyeyseysyeyzyezyeyzudkfkslzlkcvk

X

Kyoya glanced down at his little brother, their father unable to take him for take your kid to school day (read: didn't want to) so the little four year old hung out at the host clubs afterschool hours and the host club and the guests swooned at the tiny Kyoya.

The toddler wore a mini uniform and little glasses.

The kicker was the child sized notebook he kept writing in, closing it when anyone tried peering to see.

"'yoya, how do I do this?" (Name) asked softly as the teenager helped his little brother with his school work, basically he had to write about his day at his parents work with illustrations and Kyoya was more than happy to help the toddler "this is where you draw your day and down here you write what happened"

"Oh..." (Name) said as he did a page before Kyoya let him go explore the club so he could get more to put in.

The twins watched curiously as the little boy wrote in his little book when he saw them entertaining guests.

"Oh hello" one of the guests said as little (name) waddled up to Tamakis area and tried not to eye the cookies and treats laid out "hello..." (Name) mumbled suddenly shy, everyone's eyes on him as he clutched his little book "would you like a treat?"

"...yes please" (name) said shyly taking the macaron from one of the guests and shyly nibbling on it "oh my darling boy, you're the most precious thing!" Tamaki exclaimed to the mini Kyoya who just looked used to Tamakis antics and set his little cookie on the coffee table before doing something in his little black book, bowing slightly to the guests and grabbing his cookie and running back to Kyoya who had already prepared some tea for the little boy.

(Name) was still too young for a real tea cup, hands too small and cup just to heavy for him so Kyoya brought his little dinosaur cups, a glass looking plastic that had fun little dinosaurs on them.

(Name) really likes dinosaurs.

Kyoya even got him a little dinosaur themed pen for today.

By the end of the clubs day (name) was out like a light, almost his bedtime and exhausted from interacting with guests and absolutely thrilled to hang out with his big brother.

Kyoya carried him into the limo with both of their belongings, the tiny boy asleep in his car seat as Kyoya spotted the mini version of his own book and decided a peak wouldn't hurt.

Inside were honestly pretty shitty drawings but Kyoya felt his heart melt at the drawings his brother made of him and his friends, a lot of drawings of Kyoya with the worst coolest brother and such.

Kyoya knew (name) would one day deal with the strife of being the youngest as he once did and vowed to shield the little one from that suffering like he did.

He would love him the way his brothers before did.

[peebeexd]

OHHH ?? HI YES ID LOVE TO HEAR UR HEADCANON(s) HIIII im sitting criss cross apple sauce

ok ok so i actually have a document filled with headcannons from bfb/tpot there isnt very much but here are some i have (the ones that are bolded are the ones i based my crappy sketch on from earlier)

• Puffball hates having to fly people around everywhere so they purposely stopped changing sizes so people dont beg them to fly them around as much. Unfortunately, people still ask her to fly them around and its driving her insane.

Every single time Tennis ball goes into Golf ball’s lab with out her knowing, he leaves little toy dinosaurs in hidden areas and sees how long it takes for her to notice. She’s only found 1 out of the 1000+ dinos he’s hidden (based of something i did when i was around 9 whenever i went into my brother’s room on my own lol)

Pen is embarrassed of his drawings ever since X said harshly critisized him in bfb 5 so now he hides them from everyone, including his best friends (Blocky, Eraser, Snowball). All of his friends are sad because of this and actively encourage him to show his drawings because Pen’s drawings are really good. Pen is very slowly starting to get his confidence back (based on bfb 5)

Fries sometimes eats his own fries’ when no one is looking. Gelatin caught him once and now whenever Fries gets mad at him for taking a fry, he says something along the lines of “but how come you can eat your own fries and i cant?? Unfair! >:(“ and half-jokingly throws a tantrum. This makes Fries embarrassed (half-based of the bfdi recommended character introductions)

Stapy chews on hard things (metal, wood, plastic, etc.) a lot for no reason. This would normally be fine, except for the fact that he has raser sharp teeth and usually breaks things that he keeps chewing. He’s broken multiple pencils, pens, and has even bitten a massive chunk out of his E.X.I.T desk once because of this (based of the time a kid in my class bit so hard on his pen that he broke it)

Fries has a really bad fear of the dark that’s been with him ever since he was a kid and every single time he is in the dark, he always acts like he’s unafraid until he hears something/someone and then he goes into the fetal position and bawls his eyes out

Puffball gets anxious and panicky in the dark only because they can’t see shit, but they don’t actually have a fear of the dark

Barf bag has trouble walking because her knee keeps dislocating and relocating all the time and is supposed to wear a knee brace to keep the knee in place but never wears it because she can’t be fucked having to readjust the brace every 10 minutes (based on me heavily projecting on the ‘Barf bag has a walking disability’ theory because 1. i actually really like this theory a lot and 2. i need a character to vent my frustrations)

Bell hates birds, not because they scare her or anything like that, its because they always get tangled up in her string and squawk until eventually it either set free, or unfortunately it passes (usually its set free and rarely ever dies). That and also birds love to shit all over Bell lmao

Naily likes knives and has a knife collection. Her favorite knife is a rainbow dagger that has a purple handle and the blade sorta resembles a heart

Fries has a tiny, fluffy, bobtail cat named “Puffy” (named after Puffball because the kitten reminds him of them). Puffball found out this and was offended. Not because of the name, but because Fries never told them about the kitten because Puffball absolutely LOVES cats

Tennis ball has a intense fear of dogs, running away from one in fear any single time he sees one. This includes small puppies aswell. Golf ball found out this when he woke her up at 3 AM, begging for her to let him inside her house after being chased by a small toy poodle. (based off a fanfic i wrote a while ago)

Foldy likes jumpscaring people a lot because she finds it cute/funny. She’s had many things happen when she’s jumpscared someone, but by far one of the funniest things that has happened was Markers 5 second delayed scream of death

Puffball really likes hugs but is often to embarrassed to ask anyone for a hug

Bell has a bad habit of subconsciously whacking someone in the face when she gets scared. One time Puffball scared her by accident and gave them a concussion

Profily often cries themself to sleep because nobody ever seems to remember them, not even their own family (the only person who remembers him is Announcer speaker box and they are 100% in a relationship because i said so [fact])

Puffball is really scared of sleeping but tries their best to hide the fear by pretending to be asleep until everyone is asleep and then just does whatever. Golfball found out and now tries her best to make Puffball calm and tired so they can fall asleep without being absolutely terrified.

Puffball likes flying higher than anyone else to seem taller than everyone they know

thats about it! sorry most of them are of my fav characters lol [cries] I'll make another post with more headcannons later on :)

[bruhstories]

Sticky, Saccharine & Sinful

Summary: Professor Jaeger asks his assistant to come over and grade some papers. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings & Content: language, protected sex, fingering, oral sex (female & male receiving), spanking, daddy kink, bossy Zeke, bratty Reader, tying up, bit of an age gap but no underage shit (we don’t do that here) Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: Huehuehue guess who finally wrote a daddy kink smut? Also I have looped Cherry Cola by Kuwada the entire time i wrote, proofread and formatted this bitch, I think it works with the atmosphere

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to help me grade some papers later today." Professor Jaeger pushed his glasses with his index finger as he looked up from his book.

"You got it, boss!" You nodded as you entered the staff lounge room at Stohess Uni, two cups in your hands.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Zeke?" The man sighed. “Or at least call me professor.”

"But I'm your assistant, you're my superior, that makes you my boss, boss." Sarcasm dripping down your tongue as you placed his coffee down the table. "All black, two cubes of sugar."

"Thank you. And yes, technically I am your boss, but you're, what, six years younger than me?"

"Seven and a half." You pouted.

You've been working at Stohess University for a little over a year now as Zeke Jaeger's assistant. He was the best philosophy teacher, as well as head of the department, and you nailed your internship interview, aspiring to be like him one day. He even taught you Ethics during your masters, and currently you were doing your PhD research under his coordination. The man was a genius in his field, and you didn't dare disappoint him, but your personalities always clashed. He was calm and collected, you were bubbly and all over the place. He was nice and polite, you were sarcastic and rude. Zeke knew you'd make a horrible teacher for children, but undergraduate students would adore you.

"How can you drink hot coffee in this heat wave?" You asked him as you fanned someone's epistemology essay to cool yourself off.

"It's actually been proven that warm drinks hydrate better than cold ones during summertime." He inhaled the scent of freshly brewed coffee before taking the essay out of your hand.

"Whatever you say, boss." You shrugged and gulped on your iced tea, a few glistening amber drops dripping from the corners of your mouth, down your chin and your neck. "Ah, shit." You wiped the tea with the back of your hand, not catching Zeke watching you curiously. "Why did the AC have to break down today of all days?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and immersed himself back into his book. "Oh, I hope you don't mind coming to my place to grade the papers? I don't think you'll be able to focus in this heat. Besides, I want to take a look at your latest PhD chapter." Jaeger told you absentmindedly, eyes glued to the pages in front of him.

"Sure thing–"

"Don't say it."

"Boss."

"Jesus Christ..."

You adored pissing your ex-professor off, but deep down, Zeke couldn't deny the fact that he loved the authority he had over you. You were a very alluring woman, after all, and any sane man would kill to be as close to you as he was, let alone boss you around like he did. And he had the strong feeling you acted like a brat around him on purpose. You took your leave after downing the rest of your beverage, going to the library to borrow some books for your own research.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You rang the intercom and waited for Zeke to let you inside the building, dragging your feet down the hallway, tired from carrying so much shit with you – laptop, books, essays, papers, pens and highlighters – you were a walking, talking stationery shop and one could only wonder how someone with such a petite frame was so strong. Zeke waited in the doorway and took some of your things, relieving the weight as you sighed.

"Coffee?" He guided you to his kitchen.

"Water, please." You plopped on a chair and unbuttoned the first three heart-shaped buttons of your lilac shirt, tiny beads of sweat bundled up at your collarbone.

"You sure? I'll be keeping you up all night." Jaeger laughed. He was obviously talking about the papers, but to you, the sentence had a different innuendo — not that you minded, you had your fair share of sinful fantasies with the older man. Come to think of it, you were wondering why he was single. Zeke was undoubtedly an attractive man, he could have any woman he wanted. Yet you’ve never seen him on a date, never seen a picture of a woman when you accidentally glanced at his phone, never heard him talk about a significant other.

"Hey, mind if I smoke?" You asked, noticing the ashtray on his table.

"Not at all, I'll join you." He sat opposite you, mug of coffee in his hand. You pulled out a pack of pink cigarettes from your backpack and placed one between your lips, pocketing your jeans for a lighter. His hand extended over the table, lighter in his hand, and you slightly bent your head forward, eyes glued to his. You inhaled the smoke, not breaking eye contact, and exhaled with a sigh. Something about Zeke lighting up your cigarette made your little cunt tingle.

"Thanks, boss." The corners of your lips turned into a barely visible smirk. You really, really liked to tick him off.

"Don't mention it." He told you before lighting his own cigarette. What, no comeback? No objection? "How's your paper going?"

"It's... going." You shrugged.

"You haven't written anything in your last chapter, have you?"

"No, I have," you half-whined, "it's just that I can't find my words. I think I encountered writer's block."

"'S alright, we'll figure something out." Zeke pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and dropped it on the table.

"Wow, no shit you need help, that's a lot of papers." You twirled the cigarette between your fingers before taking one final puff and crushing it in the glass ashtray.

"Told you." He picked his resting cigarette back from the ashtray. "You can do the first years."

"I'd rather do something else." You whispered to yourself, eyes almost rolling at the back of your head.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, boss. First years, got it." Your manicured fingers pulled the stack of papers closer to you. The exams were already annotated according to subject and year and you took everything you needed before shoving them back to Zeke.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You were bored out of your mind, fiddling with the red pen in your hand and tapping your fingers on the table with no particular rhythm. It was already dark outside and you barely finished a quarter of your stack while Zeke was halfway through his.

"Could you please stop that?" He asked you without even bothering to look at you.

"Why?"

"It's annoying."

With a groan you rolled your eyes and stopped tapping your fingers, instead opting to fidget your leg, bouncing it up and down under the table. The wooden furniture shook at the movement and Zeke sighed, putting the pen down.

"I understand you're bored, but if you want to be a professor, this is part of the job description."

"I know, I know, but, like, can we take a break? Please? We've been at it for two and a half hours now and I'm just so bored." You looked at him with puppy eyes and a pout on your plump lips.

"Ugh, fine. What do you want to do?"

"I dunno. Got any board games?"

"Only a pack of playing cards." Zeke shrugged.

"Perfect! Literally anything is better than this. I mean look at what this kid wrote: the ship of Theseus ARE a thought experiment. Can you believe it? How can a nineteen-year-old not know proper grammar?"

"Careful, Y/N," he chuckled, "you made a pretty embarrassing error during your masters, too."

"Nooo, don't bring that up!" You got up and walked to the freezer, scanning the contents.

"Why not? It's funny."

"Yeah, for you." You rolled your eyes. "But I still proved my worth." You triumphantly told him, tongue playfully poking out of your mouth from behind the freezer door. Ugh, you were so cute, made to be ravaged. Your eyes settled on the single raspberry popsicle and you picked it up, closing back the door. "Can I have this?" Oh, he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Of course."

With Zeke's approval, you unwrapped the plastic, revealing the rose-tinted dessert, swirling your tongue around its tip. You were a sight for sore eyes, (not so) innocently licking at the popsicle, your gaze on him and his growing bulge. He didn't even bother hiding it, instead relaxing in the chair and drinking you in. It was no mistake that Zeke invited you over, and you weren't stupid enough to believe it was a mistake.

"Do you... want some?" You trailed off as the once cold dessert began melting from your hot lips.

"If you'd be so kind." He patted his lap and you accepted the invitation. His bulge was comfortably uncomfortable against your ass, and you put the popsicle onto his lips, one arm draped around his shoulder. Zeke's tongue moved languidly around the sweet snack and you leaned in, your own tongue licking both the dessert and his lips. It was sticky and saccharine and sinful, and your poor pussy couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you wanna fuck me, daddy?" You naively asked him. He wasn't surprised in the slightest by the name, already suspecting you had daddy issues, in fact counting on it.

"I very much do." His hands were already roaming your body. The popsicle was almost gone, and you deepthroated the last bit, taking the little stick out of your mouth with a pop. Finally, he crushed his lips onto yours and you could tell he had experience. You dropped the stick on the tiled floor, twisting your body to better straddle him. Zeke unbuttoned your shirt as you slowly began grinding your hips against his bulge, earning a groan from him. "Ugh, you bad girl." He threw his head back as you loosened the tie around his neck.

"Are you going to punish me?" You slowly, too slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"What’s the point of a punishment if you’re going to enjoy it?" He mused, unclasping your bra. You had goosebumps all over your skin and Zeke took one of your nipples in his hot mouth, a hand pinching your other one. You whimpered at the slight stinging sensation

"Does it m-matter if I enjoy it?" His touch became rougher, almost animalistic.

"Of course," he stopped sucking your swollen, oversensitive nipple, "otherwise you won't learn your lesson." You got up and turned around, your back against him, taking your jeans and underwear off, bending down and exposing your cunt to him. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N." Zeke shook his head, removing his own trousers.

"Allow me." You tucked your fingers behind the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down as you kneeled in front of him. His throbbing cock tapped your face after finally being unleashed from its textile cage.

"I suspected you were big, but this? This is too good." You sneered at his member, mesmerised by its size.

"Just shut up and suck it." Zeke pretty much commanded you and you wet your lips, pressing your tongue against the velvety tip. You worked your way around his shaft, enjoying this more than you should've. You pulled back, a string of saliva and precum attached to your lips as you looked up at him.

"Am I doing good, daddy?"

"So good." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head back. You eagerly sucked and slurped until he got bored of your mouth around his cock. Zeke pulled you up, spun you around and bent you over the table. He brought your wrists together and tied them up behind your back with his tie before taking a step back and admiring the view. Ass up, face down, just like he loved it. His foot pushed yours to the side, spreading your legs for him before he gave you a good slap over your ass cheeks. You shot up with a moan but his hand forced you back down against the table.

"I think I know exactly how to punish you." Zeke announced, two fingers spreading your folds as his tongue dove inside of you, lapping at your wet cunt.

"Oh, God!" You groaned in pleasure. No man has ever eaten you out like he did. Most guys did it as a chore. Zeke? He was enjoying every single bit of it, passionately fingering you, his tongue moving in ways you didn't think were possible. "Ah, fuck– so good! Daddy, please! I'm coming!"

The way he venomously laughed told you that no, you were not going to come any time soon. Just as you were about to let loose, Zeke stopped, removing his fingers, another slap on your ass. Tears pooled at your Y/E/C eyes, frustration written all over your face. "No, no, no!"

"I told you, Y/N, you're a bad, bad girl." He bent over and whispered in your ear, his cock pressing against your entrance, his hand in your hair.

"Oh, pleaseee, I need to come! Will you let me come?"

"Hm, it depends." Jaeger straightened his back, hands resting on your hips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes, yes, daddy, I did! I promise I'll be good!" You tried to turn around to look at him, oblivious to what he was doing behind your back, cheeks crimson, droplets of sweat on your forehead.

"Convincing enough." He shrugged and you heard the condom snap against his cock.  Unexpectedly and without any warning, the man thrusted into your wet cunt and you, again, shot up, but he pinned you back. "Stay fucking put, you little whore." Zeke demanded and you tried, you really tried, but your body had a mind of its own. "I see you refuse to learn."

"No, no, please!" You slammed your face onto the table, squishing your cheek in the process, desperate and helpless.

"That's better." He concluded, sarcasm dripping down his tongue as he rammed his cock deeper into you. The silken walls clenched around his hard member, and he grunted, no other woman pleasing him like your tight pussy did. "You like it when I take you from behind, you filthy slut?"

"Yes– oh my God, YES!" You bucked your hips against his for more pressure and pain.

"What would my students think if they saw you getting fucked like this on their papers?"

"Ah– I don't c-care!"

"What would the headmaster say if she knew you fuck your superior and- ugh- coordinator?" Jaeger thrusted harder and faster.

"Please, Zeke-"

His hand found its way to your neck, tightly squeezing it.

"Wrong name, Y/N."

"Shit, daddy!"

"That's right, I'm your fucking daddy and hell will freeze before someone else fucking touches you!"

"Fuc-k, fuuuck!" You both howled and panted as you climaxed, your entire bodies quivering. Zeke pulled out of you, carefully removing the rubber from his cock and giving you another slap on your perky ass cheeks. You stood up, arms still tied around your back, turned on your heels and pecked him on his cheek, giggling like a schoolgirl, marvelled by the fact that he chose you over anyone else.

"You know what, Y/N? Now that I've found you, I'm never going to let you go." He promised.

"I'm all yours, boss."

[sylvie-writes]

So Confused

word count: 1433

pairing: dad!steve rogers x wife!reader x sarah rogers

summary: steve and sarah get you a gift yet your husband is a bit confused as to what it is.

a/n: this is a birthday gift to myself hehe. i meant to get this out earlier but life happened lol.

please excuse mistakes this was written on mobile. the writing is very straight forward because i am tireddd.

For days on end Steve had been on mission. Not one for the Avengers, but rather for personal reasons per se. He was on the hunt for the perfect birthday gift for you. In the past he had always had no trouble but that was during the honeymoon phase and felt it was about time to step up his game, ever since your daughter had been born, that is. This year he has absolutely no clue what to get, but luckily he could enlist the help of his mini me who had the perfect gift in mind.

The two of them had snuck out this morning while you were still sleeping. Unfortunately they had to wait until the day of your birthday to get your gift because in the past you’ve had a knack for unintentionally finding the hidden presents.

-

“Are you sure this is it, little doll?” Steve and Sarah were standing in the middle of the home appliance store looking thoroughly confused by a cardboard box. The man’s hands were on his hips while his daughter mimicked the action.

“I’m sure, Daddy!” Sarah went to go wrap her arms around the large box since it was at her level, but it was heavier than she had intended it to be and instead looked up to her dad for help. He easily scooped it up as if it were a piece of paper.

“Well, if you are sure this is it, what is it for?” In one hand Steve held the white and green cardboard box and rested it against his waist while the other hand held Sarah’s hand to keep her close. As they walked to the checkout line, Steve’s eyes scanned over the big bold letters on the box that read “Roomba.”

“Silly Daddy! It’s a rowbot vacooooom.” The smaller blonde giggled at her dad’s confused face and he moved his gaze to look down at her with a goofy smile.

“Next!” The cashier called them next in line and Sarah broke away from her dad to run up to the lady and greeted her while Steve followed suit.

Mumbling under his breath he picked up his pace, “Wow, times really are changing.”

-

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY!” Two lovely voices awoke you and a little girl jumped on the bed to snuggle up as a larger man sat beside you on the edge.

You greeted them both in return with a kiss to their cheeks before Sarah was readily sitting criss cross in your lap. Her tiny hand gave you a white envelope that had been colored in almost every color crayon you can imagine. In the child’s best handwriting, written in squiggly letters was your name along with a disproportionate heart that made you giggle. It was the kind of artwork that a parent valued because it was their child’s and not since it looked like Davinci’s art, heavens knew it was anything but that.

Opening the card made your heart melt as you read the wording in the card, ones in Steve’s expert cursive but Sarah’s own words. Steve’s handwriting was so elegant and old fashioned. You loved when he wrote anything for you, whether that be a note telling the dishes were clean or a letter he sent when off for work.

A tiny tear pricked at the corner of your eye for Sarah’s letter was so sweet and endearing, especially for such a young girl. You couldn’t have gotten a better kid. With much love, you pulled her into your arms and pressed messy kisses that tossed up her hair and made her laugh.

Next, Steve crawled into the bed a bit more when you scooted over for him. He handed you his own card that was, in fact, a letter written on fancy cream stationery with gold foil. It accented the jet black ink of the pen and the smooth strokes that came from Steve’s penmanship.

In his letter were words of appreciation to you for being the loving woman, wife and mother you were. You could tell it was straight from his heart. Steve was always so genuine and you loved him ever so for that.

Not even a second after you put the letter down and pecked Steve’s lips was Sarah excitedly clapping her hands.

“Momma! We got you a present!”

You cocked your head like an intrigued puppy.

“Oh really? What did you get, baby?”

She shook her head, “That’s not how it works, silly goose! Daddy has to get the gift and then you can open it!” Her words didn’t hold any malice or demand, just lots of excitement for giving a gift, that she knew was perfect, to her mom.

Steve quickly got up and returned in no time to your bedroom and placed a huge box wrapped in unicorn paper (Sarah’s doing) in your lap as your daughter had moved to the side.

She watched with much interest as you opened the paper slowly and your jaw dropped when you saw the box. Sarah was relieved to see your reaction.

Inside your box, it was a robot vacuum, something you had been dying to get as there was just not enough time to clean the house by yourself. Even with Steve and Sarah’s help, it was a constant struggle and this little device would help quite a bit.

You let out an excited squeal yourself, something that Sarah often did, and you launched yourself at Steve who was now standing at the bedside.

“Oh Steve! Thank you! I love you so much, I will literally have your babies. You surely know a way into my heart.” A million kisses were placed on his lips and he shook his head before you continued to shower him in affection. Actually, Steve was struggling really hard to not laugh and get the words of truth out.

“It wasn’t all me, sweetheart. It was really your daughter!”

You turned to your daughter and goofily ran over to her with open arms. Scooping her up off the bed you sound around with her in your arms.

Setting down Sarah, you returned back to Steve.

“You must think I’m so crazy, getting excited over a vacuum. God, I’m getting so old.” You made a sound of disgust towards the end and Steve laughed.

“If anyone in this house is old, it’s me. (Y/n) I don’t even know what this thing really does.” Steve widened his eyes for extra effect and you were shocked that he didn’t know. After all, he worked with technology far more advanced than this yet a cell phone could stomp him. He was such an old man and you never stopped teasing him about it. You were relentless with your jokes but Steve enjoyed them nonetheless.

“Oh, well, it’s a vacuum that goes around the house on its own. Y’a know so we don’t have to spend an hour every day doing it ourselves.”

He opened his mouth in awe while you both watched Sarah unpack the box.

“Ma would love this. I remember how bad she wanted a vacuum, just a simple one cost more than our grocery spendings.”

You intently listened to Steve’s short story of how his father had saved up to get his mom a vacuum for her birthday and you smiled at the irony of the recollection. Here their son was, doing almost the same thing for his own wife.

“Times have changed so much, darling, and I’m so glad I have you here to help,” Steve unwrapped his arm from your waist and instead turned to place his hands on your face.

“You are always so patient with me, I just love you so much.” With that, your husband kissed you slowly and for what seemed like minutes. That was until Sarah started to noisily take the styrofoam from that box that you both pulled away and turned to her.

She was awfully excited over the vacuum herself and you found it hilarious. Sarah caught you both glancing at her and waved you over to help with the styrofoam that was crumbling and looking like snow on the bedspread. No one wants to do laundry, let alone on their birthday so you both rushed over to prevent the mess from growing.

After setting up the device, you taught Steve how to work the vacuum from his cell phone, Sarah scrambled through a list of names and you found loads of entertainment in both of them. They were quite the pair and you were so glad to have them in your life, especially on your birthday

[dokifluffs]

Zooms With His Kid | Sugawara, Osamu

Pairings: Pairings: I mean, Y/N is absent in these.... so I guess for once, this section don matter 

Genre: domestic fluff ah ha ha 

Author’s Note: debuting Suga!!! woooo 

Warnings: post time skip!! 

Zooms with their Kid | Ennoshita, Akaashi // Zooms with their Kid | Sachiro, Kuroo // Zooms with their Kid | Kenma, Bokuto

*S/N = Son’s Name, D/N = Daughter’s Name* 

Sugawara: 

He’s an elementary school teacher 

“Alright class, today you guys will be learning how to add and subtract double and triple digits. Alright, I’m going to first give you guys a few examples of both and we’ll work through a few together for you guys to get a clear understanding, alright?”

“Yes~” multiple distorted voices of children sounded through their display screens on his computer as he worked in his study which was really one of the spare bedrooms used for storage on the ground level of the house

He shared his screen, using a pen tablet that wrote out what he wanted on the screen, slowly going through the steps on how to add to double digits first with his second grade class

He made sure to ask a bunch more questions to make sure everyone had a clear understanding since everything was online

And because of this, this was a bigger hurdle than he anticipated and everyone around the world was dealing with this situation

It was a challenge since not all his students were able to have a computer or the internet connection to allow them to stay in school and follow class

But all his lessons were always recorded and uploaded, sent to the students of the parents who were unable to attend class

And if that didn’t work, he made sure to type out clear instructions to be mailed to their homes

He glanced every now and then, wearing comfy sweatpants and a decent looking sweater on top for the illusion of professionalism

“So, now that I’ve gone through a few problems, let’s see you guys do one. What’s the answer to this?” He asked his class

After a moment of silence, a little boy raised his hand with the feature, answering the problem as others wrote down the answer/ solved it on their own

Suga almost jumped out of his seat as he complimented his student, feeling the slightest pull at the end of his sweatpants

But as fast as his heart jumped out of his chest, a wave of relief washed over him

“What are you doing in here, my little princess?” He scooped his little girl as she looked up to him with her bright brown eyes, babbling at him, tapping his foot with her little fist

He turned back seeing the door ajar, connecting the dots that his little girl had come in on her own

“Everyone, I would like you all to meet D/N,” he bounced her in his lap as he pointed to his screen to the many small displays of his students as they all physically leaned forward

His heart felt so full now that his class was able to finally meet his daughter after being able to only show them a few pictures

“All right, back to it,” he instructed as his littegirl sat on his thigh, entranced by his fingers as he wiggled them before her, her tiny hands latching on and wrapping around a single finger of his

Osamu: 

“Onigiri Miya will be the first ad to be seen every other commercial break during the Jackals-Adler’s match. With this deal, you’ll also have your own stand in the dome with a clear view of the game.”

Osamu sat comfortably in his bedroom on his bed as promoters partnered with the dome, where the legendary game of the grown monster generation would be duking it out between each other, offered a partnership between Onigiri Miya and then

It would be one the biggest games all volleyball fans would be looking forward to

And this meant even more promotion since he already knew four players of the jackals team- Sakusa, Hinata, bokuto, and his brother the most

The promoters and Osamu continued their conversation about the sponsorship, leading up to the final agreement

“This truly will be one of the greatest matches of the year,” one promoter spoke as the they casually spoke over the zoom call, discussing their own personal opinions on who would win

The door to the bedroom slowly creaked open eerily, yet no one could be seen

Osamu stared at the door, anticipating when he would see your head pop around from the other door or something, yet you never appeared

Instead, in his peripheral, he caught of something even better walk around the corner of the bed

His little girl and boy as they held hands, holding onto each other for balance as they wore matching little bear onesies

Their teary, tired eyes looked up to their dad, the twins with their grayish-brown eyes looking u to their gray eyed father

As soon as they saw him, they walked a bit faster, closer to his edge he sat comfortably on, looking up to him, paws intertwined, reaching their free hand up so they could come onto the bed too

“What do you think of this year’s teams, Osamu-kun?” One promoter asked just as Osamu leaned over the edge, setting his laptop to the side on a pillow that showed the headboard behind him as he plucked up his little bears, sitting each on his thigh

“Sorry, my kids came in but I think the teams this year will be teams no one’s seen before. The monster generation has grown and their hunger is never satiated.”

“Very true…” After seeing Osamu’s kids, the promoters briefly ended the call, heading back to their own families

Glancing down to his babies, they each were leaned on his chest, fast asleep with on their little bear onesies, snuggled close and comfy with no intentions of waking up anytime soon

“How vicious,” he smirked as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to their foreheads, their chubby little cheeks reminding him of mocha, he just wanted to bite on them

He adjusted the pillows he leaned against and laid down, readjusting how they laid carefully so they didn’t wake at his side, his arms wrapped around their little bodies, joining them in a late afternoon nap with the gloomy skies as the perfect weather  

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046  @mazey-chan  @sunboikyo00  @kara-grayson04​  @fortheloveofbakugo​ @tsumtsumsemi​ @osamuonigiri @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci​ @realityisoftendisapointing@plantisnotplant @k-eijiakaashi​ @pink-panda-pancakes​ @differentballooncollection​ @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction​ @euphorihan@turquoiselace​ @macaronnv  @oxmaddy​​ @mrkoala4prsdnt​​ @curiouslilbeast​ @plantisnotplant@therestless101​ @abcdaichi​ @oyasenpai​ @kaaidalupita​ @lovinnoya​ @wisepandaslimeland​ @killuaking​ @bbymilkbread​ @tsumtsumland​ @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl​ @amandahh626​

[druggedchicken]

im going to talk a little bit about how i used Ne-Ti as a kid and why i shouldve known i was an entp a long time ago

as a 9 year old, i had A BUNCH of tiny projects going on and every single one of them was cringe as fvck and literally everyone hated them but never really said anything about it because i was a kid (i could tell they didnt like them but i also knew they were "stupid and closed minded")

best example is that i would bother my elementary school teacher every day about new things we could add to our classroom/ classes so everyday things would be easier and more fun to do, surprisingly every brilliant idea of mine was tossed under the rug with a "thats a great idea eve ill think about it!"

when i was about 9-10, even tho i had a pretty good amount of toys and dolls to play with i got bored of them so i started making paper dolls, which were literally so stupid now that i think about it but i made each of them a paper backpack (it could open and close), notebook (with some writing in it obvi), pen (i was disappointed once i figued that the insane amount of ink i put on the tip wouldnt actually write stuff, so crazy ik), different clothes they could change (they had little hooks and i would hook them on their shoulders, waist, est..),

god i just remembered this but i would give them all different powers like they were winx but like my version ofc, and they all had a couple special attacks and they all had different names and what they do and stuff, mind you these were literally just paper but i cried when i had to throw them out when we moved out

the most recent example is still funny to me, it happened couple months ago. i made a playlist for my american enfp bestfriend and i named it ovi orasi (meaning deez nuts in my mother language) and in the description i wrote "hi bestie check the meaning of the name on google translate i love you i hope you like it♡" and i cant believe he actually deadass didnt think anything about it is suspicious and just did it and was like "eve i cant fucking believe you"

and the one im genuinely ashamed of, when one of my instagram mutuals posted spoilers for fruits basket on her story (it was before i watched it so i got so pissed). i was thinking of a way to pay her back and i saw she was reading tokyo revengers so i wanted to post spoilers for it on my story but i didnt want everyone to see it, so what i did was hide story from absolutely everyone except for her and thats when i posted HUGE spoilers and she actually saw the story and honestly i think she unfollowed me after that

[lostcoves]

– parisian nights 

+ ft. tamaki amajiki

+ wc: 2.5k

+ format: one-shot

+ premise: tamaki amajiki, heir to amajiki enterprises, has it all. yet, all he wants is you. could a sudden trip to paris be enough to win your heart?

+ note: my piece for @bakugohoex​’s 3k collab! hope you all enjoy!

tamaki amajiki, in a literal sense, had it all and anything he wanted was at a snap of his well-manicured fingertips. every luxury sports car, every trip to the tropics, every gaming system was only one lip pout to his daddy and mommy. he was spoiled to say the least but what kind of rich kid wasn’t?

it wasn’t until tamaki stumbled upon you that he took a moment to reevaluate his life as a rich boy.

you had humble beginnings, coming from a family of average societal standing. your family didn’t have to worry about money but they were nowhere close to the standing of the amajiki family. humble and modest, tamaki thought you were the cutest thing in the whole wide world! 

and what tamaki liked, tamaki got.

he remembered flashing you a fat tip for your service at the coffee shop you worked as a barista at. tamaki struggled with social interaction at times but all of that went out the window the moment he locked eyes with you. he found that he didn’t have to work on his social skills, as long as he had the money to buy the friendships and interactions.

he thought you were the same as the others, easily swayed by money.

yet, you weren’t. 

you rejected the tip and told him to put it in the communal tip jar for all the baristas shared from. tamaki was stunned but did what you asked of him. anxiety bubbled in his stomach and his facade of suave rich guy nearly cracked.

but tamaki wouldn’t give up so easily.

─────────────────

“morning, amajiki-san,” you greeted him every morning with that same gentle smile of yours. barely any customers were in the coffee shop, which tamaki preferred. he utterly despised crowds of people.

“good morning, (l/n)-san,” he returned the greeting and the smile.

“the usual?” you already got a medium-sized cup out.

“yes please,” he hummed. tamaki actually hated coffee, it made his anxiety worse but he would risk an anxiety attack if it meant he could interact with you.

you nodded and got to work, preparing a medium iced coffee for tamaki. he watched you move around from behind the counter, his eyes fixated on your gorgeous form.

“one medium iced coffee for amajiki-san!” you handed the coffee to tamaki.

“thank you,” tamaki fished out an envelope from his pocket, “your tip.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at the envelope and took it cautiously, “what’s this, amajiki-san?”

“your tip,” tamaki repeated. 

carefully, you opened up the envelope and pulled out its contents. 

“amajiki-san..” you uttered his first name, “what the hell is this?”

“two tickets to paris,” tamaki leaned against the counter, “well, the tickets are more of a formality. we’ll be taking my private jet to the city.”

“amajiki-san..” you sighed. 

“pretty please, (l/n)-san?” tamaki flashed you his famous puppy eyes. 

“why should i go with a guy i barely know?”

ouch, that hurt. 

“well, we can use this as an opportunity to get to know one another.”

you frowned, “i’ll have to think about it.”

“come to this address in a week from now at two in the afternoon,” tamaki got out a pen from his pocket and wrote down an address on a piece of napkin, “if you’re interested in coming.”

you took the napkin and nodded, “very well then.”

tamaki could only hope that you would come.

─────────────────

tamaki paced around outside the private jet, frantically checking his watch every two minutes. it was nearly two o’clock and you still weren’t near yet. you weren’t coming, tamaki decided, much to his dismay. 

“amajiki-sama?” the pilot poked his head outside the jet, “ready to take off?”

“no, not yet!” tamaki hollered. the pilot flashed a thumbs up and returned inside the plane. tamaki let out a heavy sigh, where were you?

“am i late?”

tamaki perked up at the sound of your voice. he saw your figure approaching the jet, the wind ruffling your white sundress and sunhat. a lone suitcase rolled behind you. 

“you came,” tamaki stated in surprise.

“didn’t think i was gonna show?” you chuckled.

tamaki let out a soft laugh and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “yeah..”

“well, i’m here!” you smiled, “you’re gonna treat me to the trip of a lifetime, correct? why in the world would i miss out on that?”

tamaki’s heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, “well, what are we waiting for? let’s get this trip started.”

a flight attendant exited the jet and took your luggage. tamaki took your hand and guided you inside the jet. your lips formed a small ‘o’ in shock at the interior of the jet. it was much larger on the inside than it was on the outside with push-lined seats and entertainment systems galore. a person could live without worry in this jet.

“you own this?” you asked tamaki, as you took a seat in one of the comfortable looking seats. 

“my parents do,” he answered, “they use it for business trips.”

“i see,” you eyed at the approaching concession cart. the flight attendant before earlier was operating it and she offered you a wide selection of drinks and snacks. you ended up getting a plain green tea while tamaki got a bag of honey barbecue flavored chips. 

“so what made you decide to invite me on this trip?” you took a long drag of your green tea.

tamaki paused from munching on his chips. he cleared his throat, “i thought ‘why not?’ in all honesty,” that was a lie, tamaki wanted to impress you with a flashy trip to the city of love.

“do you take all the girls you’ve met on trips to paris?”

“only the girls i like.”

tamaki almost choked at his comment, his cheeks flushing a nice shade of pink. you raised your eyebrows at him in an act of bewilderment. tamaki attempted to change the conversation and informed you, “we should be there in thirteen hours, so it’s best to “get situated.”

you gave him a nod, “alrighty. well, i’ll be asleep so you have fun.”

tamaki opened his mouth to reply, only to given the cold shoulder as you reclined your seat and got noise canceling headphones on. he watched, as you situated yourself and promptly fell asleep. he chuckled, that was adorable.

a two day trip to paris, what could possibly go wrong?

─────────────────

“(l/n)-san.”

tamaki gently removed your noise cancelling headphones from your head.

“we’re here, in paris.”

you let out a groan, as your eyes slowly opened. how long were you out? a couple of hours?

“you slept the whole trip,” tamaki laughed quietly.

“oh.. i did? sorry,” you murmured, rubbing the guck out of your eyes.

tamaki brushed a loose hair out of your face, “it’s alright.”

you blushed slightly at his warm touch but masked with a cough, “so! uh! whatcha wanna do in paris?”

tamaki blinked, he hadn’t planned that far ahead.

“would you like to see the louvre?”

─────────────────

japan had nothing on the bustling streets of paris. the sidewalks were filled to the brim with people mulling about, some on their phones with shopping bags and others chatting amongst themselves. the louvre was only a block away, crowded with tourists eager to see the mona lisa.

“no need to worry about the crowds,” tamaki gave you a smile when you two approached the louvre, “i set aside us a private tour of the musuem.”

“oh really?” you crossed your arms with disdain.

tamaki pouted, “would.. would you rather do a normal tour?”

you smiled, “yes please.”

the two of you pushed your way through the crowds and entered the louvre, you staring in awe of the artworks. tamaki concealed a small smile at your wonderment, he found it to be absolutely cute to watch. 

you’re more than a work of art, (f/n). was what tamaki wanted to say but he didn’t have the courage nor the guts to say it. 

“wow, the mona lisa is so tiny!” you commented to tamaki when you two found the famed piece of art. you were right, the mona lisa was surprisingly small. you grabbed tamaki by the hand and pulled him closer to the painting, “look how beautiful it is, amajiki-san.”

tamaki grew flustered at your touch but gave your hand a light squeeze, “(l/n)-san.. you can call me tamaki, if you want.”

you gave him a look and tamaki cursed internally. was it too soon to be on a first name basis?

“okay, tamaki.”

tamaki let out a sigh of relief.

“where would you like to go next?” tamaki questioned to you after the two of you finished your tour of the louvre. 

you pondered on the question for a moment. 

“let’s go shopping.”

─────────────────

tamaki patiently waited outside a fitting room, as you tried on various articles of clothing. he offered to pay– his parents gave him an allowance for the trip– and to his surprise, you actually accepted his offer. 

“you alright in there..?” tamaki asked, not wanting to walk in on you half naked.

there was some rustling and you emerged from the dressing room, “how do i look?” you asked tamaki, twirling around in your new dress.

tamaki gulped at the sight of the dress. its neckline highlighted your collarbone quite nicely and hugged your curves just right. he pulled at his collar and adverted his gaze, “er.. you look.. uh.. very nice..”

“i do?” you hugged his arm and pressed yourself against tamaki. he was sweating bullets now, “yes! y- yes, you d- do!” his eyes widened, not his stutter coming back at the worst possible moment.

“you have a stutter?”

shit. shit. shit. shit. shit.

“so wh- what if i d- do..”

“it’s cute.”

tamaki’s eyes widened.

“y- you th- think so?”

you nodded rapidly, “of course i do! i’m not gonna poke fun at it.”

tamaki coughed, “th- thanks.”

“of course,” you released your hold on his arm, “the night is still young, what should we do next?”

tamaki peered outside, nightfall was upon the city.

“a trip to paris isn’t complete without a visit to the effiel tower now, isn’t it?”

─────────────────

being on top of the effiel tower made the world seem so small. 

tamaki took a moment to enjoy the cold breeze that passed through his indigo locks, closing his eyes and just enjoying the feeling of being on top of the world for a moment. you stood next to him, doing the same thing. you hated to admit it but this had been the most fun you have had in a while. all thanks to tamaki amajiki, of course. 

“hey tamaki?”

“yes, (f/n)?”

“can i tell you a secret?”

tamaki opened his eyes, “of course.”

you stared out onto the city of lights and leaned against the guardrail.

“i never left japan until yesterday.”

tamaki laughed, “that’s not much of a secret. it was a little obvious.”

you scrunched your nose up in annoyance, “meanie.”

tamaki acted wounded, “that hurt.”

you rolled your eyes, “i enjoyed today. i hope you can ensure the same for tomorrow.”

tamaki looked down at his shoes and sighed, “i hope i can.”

“hey tamaki?”

“yes?” he looked up.

“what’s the real reason you invited me on this trip?”

tamaki hung his head down low.

“tamaki, look at me.”

he looked back up.

“tell me the truth.”

tamaki couldn’t lie to you anymore.

“it’s because.. i like you, (f/n).”

now it was your turn to hang your head low.

“why me, tamaki?”

tamaki pressed his lips together, “what do you mean?”

taking his hands into yours, the two of you were forced to look one another in the eye. you took a deep breath and began to speak your piece.

“i want to know the real tamaki amajiki. not this fake version. i think the closer we got was what happened in the fitting room. i get it, you’re rich.. but you didn’t have to whisk me away to paris just to confess that you had a crush on me, tamaki.”

“wh- what should have i done instead..?” not the stutter!

you half-smiled, “take me out for coffee, silly.”

was it really that simple?

“maybe i- i do that next time.”

“next time?”

fuck, was there not going to be a next time?

“there won’t be a next time until you tell me about yourself,” you gave tamaki a playful punch in the shoulder. he winced a bit but played it off. tamaki looked back out onto the city, “what would you like to know?”

“what’s it like being an heir?” you leaned against the guardrail.

tamaki tilted his head back and let out a long breathe, “exhausting.”

you cocked your head to the left, “how so?”

“my parents have high expectations of me. forcing me to go to college to study business for the sole purpose of taking over the company. this might sound silly but i wanted to study food science and become a nutritional therapist,” tamaki clasped his hands together tightly, “there’s no true freedom. money has a price and that price is your freedom. the public hounds you, the elite is full of backstabbers, and i just want to settle down with a nice girl.”

“and that nice girl would be?” you smiled.

“you, of course.”

you blushed at tamaki’s response.

“i would give up all the money i have if it means i can be with you,” tamaki confessed with tears in his eyes, “i truly mean it. i fell in love with you the moment i saw you in that coffee shop, (f/n) (l/n).”

“re- really?” now you were stuttering. 

“truly,” tamaki cupped your cheeks and bore his eyes into yours, “i truly mean it. i only want you, (f/n). i would give you everything and anything you could have ever wanted. i want to be there for you.”

“b- but you barely know me!” you protested.

“then let me get to know you,” tamaki fired back.

you were rendered speechless. you adverted your gaze from tamaki and he removed his hands from your face. tamaki bowed his head in disgrace, “i- i’m sorry, (l/n)-san.”

“it’s okay, tamaki!” you exclaimed, “really it is. i admire your fire. i want to get you better, as well. truly, i do.”

tamaki relaxed his shoulders and placed a hand against his chest in an effort to calm his rapidly beating heart. you looked heavenly under the lights of the effiel tower with your new dress and your pearly white smile. he just wanted to kiss your damn face already. 

“tamaki.”

“yes, (f/n)?”

“here,” you pressed a kiss to his lips. tamaki’s eyes widened for a moment before he closed them, allowing himself to get lost in the kiss. your lips tasted like the croissant you had earlier that day. tamaki could kiss you forever. 

“let’s get to know one another better before a second date, okay?”

tamaki was more than fine with that. 

one day, he’ll be yours.

[writers-worst-nightmare]

Kittens (Keith x reader)

Song you are singing

Warning(s): A TON OF CUSSING, reckless driving, got lazy at the end, Keith loosing one of his lives

THIS IS A REAL LIFE AU WHERE THERE IS NO SPACE OR ANYTHING AND THEY ARE ON EARTH

Fandom: Voltron

Word Count: 1,510

Pairing(s): Keith x reader

Genera: chaotic fluff

A/N: this is basically a Voltron version of “no braincells“ but I added a twist to make things more interesting

Request are always open!

Keith stared at the tiny kittens surrounding him, he froze in place and looked up to you as a plea of help witch was rudely declines when you started snickering before bursting out into laughter. Soon the whole crew joined in on laughing at Keith with a bunch of kittens. Pidge was snapping pictures and uploading it to their Instagram, Lance was recording a tiktok, Shiro was trying to get the cats off of Keith, Hunk was laughing, and you where adding more cats to the pile on his lap. “Y/N DON’T ENCOURAGE THEM!” Shiro scolded. You rolled your eyes before grabbing a small black and white kitten and placing it on Keith’s lap. The crew had decided to meet up after band practice and stay at your house. Little did they all know that you fostered animals, you had a couple of dogs and Birds but you mainly fostered cats cause they look so fucking cute.

“But it fuuunnnn!” You wine, only making Hunk laugh even harder until he was literally on the ground laughing so hard.

“They are kind of cute…” Keith muttered as he stared at the cats and back at you and then back at the cats.

“Why don’t Keith and I go to get some cat stuff at the mall, you three can make yourselves at home by the way!” You called as you dragged Keith into your car and hopped in the drivers side.

“Oh no…” Keith muttered as he stared wide eyed at you starting the car.

“What?”

”Please don’t tell me—“

”Oh, yeah I am driving!”

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!”

You locked the car doors and started to drive on there highway. Keith relaxed a bit as he thought that you where going to be normal

Big mistake

As soon as you saw all the muscles sink into the car seat you smirked and pulled up a radio station. Since Keith hasn’t been with you in the car before (for a good reason since everyone that has let you drive a car was gotten sick) he didn’t know that you LOVES music. Probably even more then you loved anime (which was saying something).

The fuck? Hold on Bitches got beef but don't wanna fight me Quit all that barkin', ho, bite me Bitch Hold on

”What the fuck is this?” Keith asked as he started to lean forward before the song started and you higher Ed the volume all the way up

Bitch, you fat, need a tummy tuck (Yep) You dropping diss songs, man, bitch, get your money up (For sure, then)

”It is called ‘go best friend’ and it is awesome” You answered as you rolled down your window and started singing along to the beat of the song and speeding slightly.

If you 'bout it, then run it up Used to be cool with this bitch, but she mad that I'm coming up

Keith hesitated softly before pulling up the lyrics on his phone and starting to sing along slowly. Afraid of what would happen next. You turned right and got on the off-road. Keith stiffened as he has heard one to many times what happens when you go off road and onto the dirt paths that you have most likely made yourself.

You a thot, you gon' suck it up I got a white bitch in the club, wanna pump it up (Woo, woo)

You started speeding even faster the before and Keith was prepared for the worst. Looking for a pencil and a piece of paper before settling on a anime journal that you had and a pen

Fuck a speech, I'ma sum it up $hy on the track and you already know she gonna fuck it up (Ayy, yeah) Bitch need to worry 'bout a bag I'm rocking these shows, and that's why she mad (Aha)

”I am going to give Lance my fuck you energy, Shiro my Hot Topic shirts, Pidge my suicidal thought, Hunk my fuck boy energy, and y/n my outmost hatred.” Keith started to say as he wrote out his will.

“Oh come on I am not that bad of a driver!” You pouted, looking away from the road and staring at Keith. Keith widened his eyes and grabbed the steering wheel so he could drive.

After this diss, you goin' out sad Bitch, you not bougie, you don't got no class (Bitch) Turnt in the booth and I'm piped off that gas Spin on yo' block, then we hitting the dash (Shoot, shoot)

”The last time you said that Pidge ended up in a flicking tree!” Keith argued, holding back the urge to choke you out, you rolled your eyes and elbowed the emo boy out of the way to take control of driving

It's still love for you, though But, bitch, I'm 'bout to get on your ass (Haha)

You started screaming the lyrics and Keith’s heart seemed to be going backwards as he grabbed his phone and gripped it tightly in his hands before button the record button.

$hy gotta potty mouth You wanna talk shit? Bitch, let's talk 'bout your body count You stink, throw your body out Tryna hang wit' the kid, I'm the life of the party now (Yeah)

He stopped the video and sent it to the “why do we still exist?” Group chat that consist of the gang

-character development Sasuke sent a video-

Non-binary owl: WORK IT Y/N YEAAAH

Sapnap but better: oh no…

Panda dude from beastars: have you written your will yet?

-character development Sasuke sent a picture-

Character development Sasuke: already got it written out

Won’t shut up about how bisexual this man is: I GET FUCK YOU ENERGY?!

Sapnap but better: I GET FUCK BOY ENERGY

Non-binary owl: can we all collectively agree to play/sing WAP at Keith’s funeral

Your lil' sister look up to me (Yeah) Bitch, you can't rap and you really not touching me (No) Just like a virgin, lil' bitch, cannot fuck wit' me And I never been pussy, bitch, you know what's up with me (For sure, then)

Won’t shut up about how bisexual this man is: As long as I get to do the dance

Panda dude from beastars: NO ONE IS PLAYING WAP AT ANYONES FUNERAL

Panda dude from beastars: Look Keith you are going to be fine

Why this bitch wanna pop shit? We was just cool, now this bitch wanna act like a opp bitch (The fuck?)

“What happens if I go off the edge…?” You wonder out loud, Keith looks up at you with a panicked expression.

Oh, she mad she can't stop shit Said that my breath stink 'cause I'm spittin' that hot shit (Hot, hot)

“NO Y/N DON’T GO OFF THE EDGE! THIS IS NOT FUCKING MINECRAFT!!” Keith lectured as he tried to roll down the window but silently cried to himself as he realized that you had child’s lock on.

Quit all that barkin', lil' bitch, and come bite me Bitches got beef, but they don't wanna fight me (Wait, wait)

You ignored Keith and smiled up yourself as you almost ran over some ducks

Turnt to my music, but swear they don't like me You got my number, ho, FaceTime, Skype me These hoes wanna be me I'm on your radio, soon I'ma be on your TV John Cena, bitches can't see me (Nope) I'm goin' up, and it's hella fans wanna meet me (Hey, haha)

“WHY DID YOU ALMOST RUN OVER DUCKS?!” Keith screamed as he plastered himself against the window.

Bitches don't get me Bitch, why you hatin? You could've been goin up with me (For sure, then) Spear on the bitch like she Britney You could dissed any bitch, but instead, you gon' pick me (Okay, the fuck?)

You did a wide turn and Keith practically flew in the air, he got up off the floor and cursing the seatbelt for failing to protect him against your ruthless grasp.

Make a bitch wanna hit me (Ayy, ayy) Bitches be cap on my name, the shoe did not fit me (No, it didn't) Show these bitches no pity (Yeah) These bitches wanna be friends, admit it, you miss me (Go)

Keith peered over the dashboard thanks to him now being on the floor and distantly saw the mall “YESSS WE ARE ALMOST THERE!!!!” Keith exclaimed as he got exited ready to leave this hell hole that mortals calls a car

Wrap up the beat like a doobie I don't give a fuck 'bout opinions, you know I'ma do me (Hey, hold on) Bitch, you a gnat, you a groupie Told that lil' bitch it's some snacks, and we pulled up with Scoobies

you lowered the volume to one as you pulled up in the parking lot and slowed down the car before parking somewhere close to the mall. You didn’t even look bothered to the fact of your reckless driving while Keith was looking like a whole tumbleweed fell over and hit him in the rib cage.

[geminidentitycrisis]

The Scent of Leather and Hairspray

Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada x F!reader ONESHOT

(WARNINGS! - swearing)

---------

Sooooooo, I have a new favorite Pro, I guess haha

I hope you enjoy, and if you're underage, pretend you're older because I get it, I'd be Hot For Teacher too, but he's not a pedo sorry......

----------

You sighed as, upon exiting the store where you just purchased a frozen drink, the men you passed to enter that store started catcalling you. Just what you needed at the end of a rough day...

"Hey Honey, you'd be cuter if you smiled...!"

"Don't listen to that shit, babygirl, you're sexy as hell, c'mere and hang out a while...?"

Ignoring them the best you could, you kept walking, but they didn't take that very well. "You think you're too good for us, that it, stuck up bitch? Where you think you're goin'?"

You could hear their footsteps approaching behind you and turned to face them after sipping from your drink.

"Guys, please, I've had a hell of a day today and my quirk would probably scar you both for life and what do you say we just don't do this, huh?"

They exchanged glances before fixing you with threatening glares. "You think you're tough, babygirl? We'll see how tough you are when we get through teaching you some respect..." the first one said.

"HEY!"

A voice called from behind you and suddenly an arm was draped gently around your neck. You froze, being caught off guard tended to prompt a panic response when you were so tired.

You smelled leather and an overwhelming scent of hairspray.

"What's the trouble, my homies? Pretty sure ya heard the lady, she ain't jammin' to the vibe ya layin' down, ya dig? Beat it."

Heart skipping a beat or two, your eyes grew wide and a blush flooded your cheeks. "That voice...?!"

You whipped your head up to see the one and only Present Mic.

"Ah! I knew it! I knew I recognized your voice, I catch your radio show every day! You're the Sound Hero, Present Mic!" he flashed a grin down at you, winking.

"Oooh, you've got good ears, Listener! Thanks for Hypin' me up like that! Always great ta meet a FAAAN!" he responded in his commentator voice.

One of your would be tormentors interrupted angrily. "Hey, peacock head, why don't you mind your business?"

"PEACOCK...?! You boys best get ta steppin', aight?! Don't make me beat you up in fronta this pretty girl!" he replied in annoyance after his attention was so aggressively stolen from you.

The blush came back in full force and you couldn't contain a dreamy sigh as your lashes fluttered, eyes lidding contentedly now that you felt safe again.

*he said I was pretty~!* you thought.

"You believe this banana hair lookin' motherfucker? You're about to get your ass whooped, fruity!" the other threatened.

"Hey bro, watch your language! There's a lady here!" with the arm around your shoulders, Mic carefully raised it and guided you behind himself as the two started walking towards you both.

"Enough..."

Another voice came suddenly from the other side of the parking lot and everyone, with the exception of the blonde who was guarding you, turned to see Eraserhead.

Suddenly these jerks weren't so confident.

"Get lost, both of you, and go straight home or I'll bring the two of you in right now for loitering and harassment." he said calmly but with deep authority.

Mic crossed his arms, glaring at the duo as they ran off after a mere moment of hesitation, his cheeks puffed out slightly. "What a couple creepozoids! You okay, Pussy Cat...?" he quickly spun around to check you out, striking a dramatic pose while pointing at you, the trademark grin already back in place.

You smiled up at him with admiration sparkling in your eyes, clasping the cup you held in both hands and tight to your chest, stepping closer to him.

"Yes, thanks to you! You're my Hero~!"

Mic felt his own chest swell with pride a bit, the grin on his face getting bigger as he relaxed his stance and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

Usually by now the damsel has already flung herself on Aizawa, but not only were you praising him, you recognized him from just his voice and he was impressed at that.

"I can't believe I was just rescued by my favorite Pro, I am your #1 fan! Please, are you patrolling the city tonight? Please let me buy you a coffee or tea or something?? Just as a thank you...?"

Hizashi laughed rather loudly, one hand emerging from his pocket to be placed over his chest.

"HAHA! Aaaww, how can I say NO when you ask so sweetly?! Coffee sounds like a rockin' idea right about now!"

"Ugh, we don't have time for this, Mic..." Eraserhead complained tiredly.

Eyes rolling in exasperation, the blonde groaned twice as loud. "ugGHHH!! Don't be such a buzzkill, yo! I'll get you one, too, just chill!" with that, he trailed after you back into the store.

You watched as he doctored up the coffee you poured for him, blushing again when he threw a hint of a smirk your way, using the tip of his finger to lift the gold tinted shades he wore and showing you his emerald green eyes. "Don't worry, I'll pay for my boring friend..."

Smiling, you bounced on your heels. "Damn right you will, I'm not HIS fangirl, after all..."

This promoted a slight blush to his face, but he maintained that knockout grin. "Ha! Well, good thing his best friend is here at least, lucky for him I tagged along tonight, huh??"

"Lucky for both of us..." came your soft reply from over your shoulder as you turned to walk away, your hips swaying temptingly had definitely not escaped his notice.

He followed you to the checkout counter and placed some money beside yours, his ungloved fingertips brushing against your own when he does. Leaning down closer to you, he cocked his head, pushing his shades down his nose this time and raising a brow.

"Does my #1 fan have a name...?"

Your smile bloomed again, blushing up at him. "It's  _______...but I might prefer you calling me Pussy Cat...~"

Saying that last bit, you applied a sensual undertone which he picked up on instantly, making his blush spread over his face and grow darker as he chuckled in amusement.

When you guys walked out the door, you noticed Eraserhead seemed really annoyed but tried to ignore him, looking up at the Voice Hero hopefully.

"Listen, I know you're both busy, but if you have just one more second to spare, I can't tell you how much it would mean to me if I could get your autograph..."

Looking away awkwardly, he made a pained expression. "Aw, man, I dunno, we are kinda in a hurry here and stuff..."

You felt your heart sinking when he startled you with another loud laugh. "Hahaha, gotcha! JK! Of course I will, I ain't gonna leave ya hangin' like that, no way, that ain't my STYYYYYYYYLLLE!"

Giddy with excitement, you let out a tiny squeal, quickly fishing out a small notebook and pen from your purse as he set the cups down. When you handed it to him, his fingers brushed yours again, making you bite tenderly at your bottom lip.

They were so warm and soft...

He had started to whistle a cheerful little tune as he spun the pen between his fingers before starting to write in your book, it took longer than you expected, clearly longer than Eraser expected, too.

"Say goodbye to the girl, Mic, it's time to keep moving!" he didn't yell, exactly, too lazy, but he had raised his voice since last.

"YEAH, YEAH, I HEARD YA!!! Gimme a sec, ALRIGHT?!" the volume of the blonde's reply actually made your eardrums flinch and quiver this time, but you smiled anyway as he defended you again.

"There ya go! And hey, just to spite my buddy over there, I wouldn't mind walkin' ya home ta make sure ya get there safe."

The blush came right back, clutching the book to your heart, you gave a weak smile. "No, no, it's okay, really...I took up too much of your time already, and I only live around the corner from here..."

Eyes closing momentarily while you gathered yourself, you took a deep breath before confessing. "...I cannot express how grateful I am for you...not just for saving me tonight, but also for your talk show, hearing your voice over the radio gives me strength and motivation every week...it means the world to me...thank you..."

Beckoning him by flexing a finger, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek when he leaned in curiously.

Eyes widening, his whole face became scarlet red and his grin stretched from ear to ear. "AW, YEAH!"

He jumped, pumping his fists in the air and then proceeded to shoot you with his finger guns while  winking again. "Listen, I dropped my digits on that piece'a paper ya got there, Shawty...hit me up sometime if ya wanna chill! I'm down for whatever!"

You were caught off guard by that and checked the page he signed for you, finally reading what he wrote down as he rambled on as background noise about how he wasn't a creep like those other guys and you could say no without worrying about him making a scene, he just had to shoot his shot, I mean you DID kiss ME first ya know...

"For my #1 fan, _______...Thanks for the coffee and stay outta trouble! ...and maybe call or shoot a txt, if your feelin' this funky vibe, too? Live loud, Pussy Cat ;) don't ever let anyone try an put the mute on ya! XOXOX PRESENT MIC!!!"

Followed by his phone number, and there were little hearts drawn around the page.

You were already blushing when he surprised you again by returning your gesture and swooping in to plant a kiss on your cheek this time.

Reaching up to touch the spot, you smiled up at him shyly. "I can't wait...please be safe out there..."

"You got it! SEE YA SOON!" The Pro nodded vigorously, giving an enthusiastic wave of goodbye before grabbing his and Eraserhead's drinks, practically bouncing with every step.

It made you giggle, but you were trying not to get your hopes up too much. For all you knew, he gave his number out to every girl that asked him for a signature.

"Are you happy now...?" Shouta grumbled, taking the cup being offered as he turned to resume patrolling. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HECK YEAH I AM! I'M ON CLOUD NINE RIGHT NOW, I JUST MET MY FUTURE WIFE!!!!!!!!"

You heard him very clearly, the blush traveling all the way down your neck this time, and you couldn't help another small giggle, your heart fluttering with happiness like the wings of the butterflies in your belly.

He just had that effect on you.

Glancing down at the notebook in your hand as you sipped your quickly melting frosty, you noticed in the bottom right corner was a little arrow, below which was written the word "flip".

You looked up again but the two Pro Heroes were already gone.

Curiously, you flipped over the page.

MARRY ME?!?!!

a. YES!!!!!

b. a

c. b

That smooth sonuvabitch had you blushing and giggling all night.