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ejzah · 1 year

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In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 18

***

“Hey, I’m bringing bagels and coffee. Any requests?” Kensi texted Deeks Saturday morning. She’d stopped off at a bakery on the way to his house.

Last week, he’d surprised her with donuts, so it only seemed fair. Plus, she figured he could use a break from cooking. Deeks didn’t respond by the time she reached the register, so she ordered three of her favorites—a triple cheese bagel toasted with cream cheese—, her usual iced coffee, and one of the lattes Deeks favored, and an apple juice for Caleb.

She was a little surprised that he didn’t answer since he was usually up early with Caleb. Maybe he’d slept in for once though. Kensi smiled at the thought of a drowsy, sleep-mussed Deeks.

It was just after 10 when she knocked on the front door, and it was a minute or two longer before it sung open. “Hey, lazy bones, did you—?” Kensi started to say, the joke she’d spent the whole ride over crafting dying on her lips as she realized a woman, not Deeks stood in front of her. “Um—”

“Oh, you must be Kensi,” the woman said before Kensi could form a coherent sentence. “I’m Roberta. Come on in.”

“Mrs. Deeks, I had no idea you’d be here,” Kensi apologized, taking a couple steps back. “I can come back another time.”

“Nonsense! Marty’ll be ready in a minute.” Holding her arm wide, Roberta waited for Kensi to hesitantly step inside, then continued father into the house, talking a minute a mile. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have whipped up something special for breakfast, but it looks like you got that covered.”

“Oh, it’s just bagels, no big deal.” Kensi gestured lamely with the drinks carrier and paper bag.

“Let me tell you, food is the way to most men’s hearts.”

“Actually, Deeks is usually the one who cooks,” Kensi found herself saying, and instantly regretted. She internally winced, and wished that she’d had some forewarning before this meeting.

Roberta turned, settling her hands on her hips, and narrowed her eyes at Kensi. Then to Kensi’s complete surprise, she smiled. “I like you,” she decided. “Deeks needs an honest woman. Who cares who does the cooking.”

“Ok.” Kensi smiled back a little uncertainly.

“Hey mom, Caleb wants you to help him pick out some pajamas,” Deeks said from somewhere down the hallway, appearing in the living room in sweat pants and a faded t-shirt a few seconds later. His expression from confused to pleased as he noticed Kensi awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. “Kensi. I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“I texted you,” Kensi explained. “Though I’d bring over some breakfast.”

“God, I’m sorry. It’s been a crazy morning.” He rolled his eyes in the direction of his mom, who made a huffing sound.

“I’ll give you two a minute. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” She gave them both a pointed look. “I’ll help Caleb finish packing.”

Deeks waited until she was out of sigh to let his head fall back. “Oh my god,” he sighed. When he straightened up again, he added. “I am so sorry about that. I haven’t checked my phone in a while.”

“That’s ok.” She glanced around the room, which didn’t hold any clear signs of an impending trip. “Are you guys going somewhere?”

“Food first. Then I’ll explain. “ Deeks rested his hand on her lower back, ushering her into the kitchen. While he grabbed plates, Kensi pulled out three bagels which were still slightly warm and crunchy on top.

“And that is a beautiful sight. Bless you, Kensi Blye,” he said, accepting the bagel with a sigh of happiness. He took a generous bite, shoulders relaxing for the first time since she saw him.

“Ok, so why is Caleb packing?” Kensi prompted.

“Every so often, mama takes him for a couple days. They go to all his favorite places, watch movies together. Usually, we plan it a little more, but since my mom is wonderfully unpredictable and chaotic, she decided to surprise us. Which is why I couldn’t warn you.”

“And you’re ok with her just dropping in like that?” Kensi asked with some surprise. She’d seen how protective he was of Caleb.

“A couple years ago, my answer would be “absolutely not”, but I’ve seen how much she cares about him. She’d never actually pull any crazy stunts with Caleb because she loves him too much. Sure, he might get significantly more ice cream for dinner than I would prefer, but mom holds in her more…eccentric qualities when she’s taking care of him.”

Kensi nibbled at the top of her bagel, putting together the mismatched pieces that Deeks have provided. It painted a very interesting picture of his mother.

“She seems to know a lot about me.”

“I may have mentioned you a time or two,” Deeks admitted reluctantly, dipping his head to conceal the blush highlighting his cheekbones.

“Don’t believe him,” Roberta disagreed, sweeping back into the kitchen. “I haven’t heard this boy gush so much since the time he got to meet one of his surfing idols.” She squeezed his shoulders affectionately, blatantly ignoring his glare.

“Thanks so much mother. Don’t you have reservations to make or some national secrets to spill?”

“Oh, don’t be salty, Marty. This girl deserves to know that you think she’s amazing and gorgeous.”

Kensi pressed her lips together to conceal a grin as Roberta shamelessly ruffled his hair.

“Grandma!” Caleb called from the other room, and Roberta dashed back out to see to him.

“Amazing and gorgeous,” Kensi repeated, taking a healthy sip of her coffee. “Interesting.”

His entire face was flushed a light pink now. “Uh, I believe the exact words I used were fantastic and stunning,” he corrected.

“Ah, completely different,” she teased. Huffing a laugh, Deeks slid his hand across the table and threaded their fingers together. “I’m sorry,” he gestured across the room with his head. “I know she’s a lot to take in without warning.”

“Deeks, it’s fine.” Any discomfort she initially felt had been obliterated by Roberta Deeks’ complete lack of boundaries. “Though I do want to hear more about what makes me so stunning.”

“Dad, we’re leaving!” Caleb announced, running into the kitchen with Roberta trailing behind him.

“Woah, how much did you pack?” Deeks asked, examining Caleb’s backpack, which couldn’t quite contain several superhero figures and what looked like a stuffed rabbit or possibly a lamb. “You do know you’re going for like a day and a half, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to forget something important. Grandma’s house is like a 100 miles away.”

“Well, you can argue with logic like that.” Deeks kissed the top of his head and swung him up into a tight hug.” Have fun, kiddo. And listen to grandma.” Turning to Roberta he added, “Have fun and try not to end up in the news.”

“He thinks he’s a comedian,” Roberta said with an eye roll. While father an son finished talking, she added, “It was nice meeting you, Kensi. You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime.”

“Oh, sure. That’d be great.”

“Bye, dad!” Caleb said, kissing Deeks’ cheek and hopping to the ground. To Kensi’s surprise, he skipped over and gave her a hug. “Bye, Miss Blye. C’mon grandma, let’s go before they run out of pizza!”

Roberta let him drag her from the room, picking up an extra duffel bag as she went. “We’ll be back Sunday night.”

Deeks rested his chin on his palms and laughed softly. “So, now you see why we don’t live near each other. Definitely didn’t see my weekend going this way.”

“Well, you do have me, and bagels,” Kensi pointed out.

“True.” Deeks lifted his coffee in a silent cheers, then leaned forward, expression shifting in an instant to something more intimate. “Kensi, would you go out with me for our first completely solo and undisturbed dinner?” he asked.

“I would love to, Mr. Deeks.”

***

A/N: Probably the most unrealistic thing about this story is how much free time Kensi has as a teacher.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #lawyer deeks #teacher Kensi #self indulgent writer #in miss Blye’s class #part 18 #au #fluff #ejzah fanfiction

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hollowsart · 10 months

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Okay! Okay I have some quick question for Aceida! (Lie, this is not a quick thing)

What is your morning routine? Do you work out, or do you stay in bed until 10 am? Do you make breakfast? Or do you just wait until lunch? What is your favorite breakfast? Biscuits and Gravy? Something completely random, or a granola bar?

Do you enjoy the labor of cooking or do you think that instant noodles are better? Has Aceida ever had breakfast with Quentin? Does acedia wear contacts under her costume since she wears glasses? Because I know from personal experience that wearing a mask with glasses is just very foggy!

What type of Jam does Acedia enjoy or does she like peanut butter? Peanut butter with Honey sandwich or PB&J?

(alright I'm done, it's currently 2:00am for me and I remembered that Acedia is a person with ideologies. And wants. So answer this if you want to untangle my rambling, love Aceida! So cool, okay actually one more question.)

What is your full on opinion on Olivia Octavius? Comic, and movie one.

Hello, hello! This will be a long response to answer ALL of your questions!:

Thoughts on Olivia Octavius: ?? She was in the comics? I don't read comics, so I have no idea if she actually IS or not, but from my searches for Doc Ock related stuff in the past year and a half.. She's not? But there's only female versions of Doc Ock that DO exist in the comics, each one being kinda interesting in appearance! Octavia Otto is a notable one since she's a good woman doing good heroic work and is an original multiverse traveler from what little I know of her!

As for Olivia Octavius from the Spiderverse movies, I think she's neat! She's cool and interesting! I'm not gay or anything for her, but I can definitely see the appeal in her design and character that would make others feel that way! It's like the gender swapped version of Movie!Doc Ock in that regard Lol just.. minus the larger body. (thicker bodied olivia lives rent free in my mind)

Morning/Daily Routines:

Work day - Wakes up and lays in bed for a couple minutes, mentally preparing to get up and go to work. Brush teeth, make breakfast which usually consists of something very quick and easy to make, sometimes may be made before brushing teeth so that it can be eaten once that task is over, but that usually depends on what it is (breakfast being eggs, toast, bagels, cereal if possible, leftover pizza, or any kind of leftover food that is available). Once finished eating and dressed, head out to hob.

Day off - Similar, but will just lay in bed for longer, use phone or swap over to laptop for a couple hours to check stuff while eating breakfast. Alternatively, will absolutely head out on rare occasions to get breakfast from somewhere else, treating self to something new and nice. Likes to lounge around the apartment some days, just doing nothing in particular. Only occasionally going out to hang out with her best friend, Sai, when they both have the free time. (After befriending Otto, though, she'll go hang out at his place occasionally, too. Sai comes to visit sometimes as well!)

(Answering ^those^ like it's Acedia's routine, which wouldn't really differ TOO much from my own. I also lay in bed for awhile after waking up, using my phone to check stuff or to draw something before getting up to do the bathroom stuff then getting food and "starting" my day lol I haven't had biscuits and gravy in like.. so long, man. it's good, but not something I would have regularly or as breakfast haha)

Cooking: Not too great in the kitchen, knows how to cook, like.. less than 10 things total. Usually doesn't have the time and/or energy to cook anything that requires a lot of focus. Is also not the biggest fan of instant noodles, only when extremely desperate and hasn't eaten them in months will she seek out a package or two of the stuff (beef, original/soy, or pork flavor tho)

Quentin: She'll have lunch at his workplace often, it's her favorite hangout spot. After their relationship steadily builds for awhile, he'll come and sit with her while on his lunch break and chat. It's a pleasant experience for both of them, having a little extra time to get to know each other out of costume (unknowing on Beck's end who Acedia is, but very knowingly on Acedia's, knowing who Beck really is).

Glasses: It's a very mild prescription so it's not entirely necessary to wear them! She can get around just fine without having to always wear the glasses. She has a little carrier case she puts them in when wearing her hero costume, putting the case in one of her pockets for safety! (Peter Parker in the canon of the original comics also can remove his glasses without issue (see him putting them down to put a bandana over his face when he is going to the wrestling place to test out his brand new spider powers he got, not to mention all the times he is seen out of costume wearing glasses, yet he isn't when he removes the mask while in costume! (there are some exceptions depending on the writer and iteration/interpretation of the story)))

Jam or Jelly: Grape jelly for sure, best kind of jelly. PB&J is also the superior sandwich between the two suggested. Honey is a nice snack treat, but preferred by itself and not on anything else. Strawberry jelly, however, isn't bad either, but it's too seedy and crunchy for a PB&J, has to be really smooth, much like the smoothy creamy peanut butter.

#spidersona #//long post

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peachy-panic · 2 years

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Day 9

Part of Do No Harm.

Okay, so I did end up splitting the chapter in half. Sometimes my little typing fingers go out of control and the word count spirals. Will try not to keep you waiting too long for the follow up :)

WARNINGS: Blood (lots of it), non-graphic noncon, very minor character death, thoughts of death in general, BBU/BBU-adjacent, medical setting, panic attack

Things at the clinic are going… Surprisingly okay? Sebastian is cautious with his optimism, and he’s hesitant to use any stronger descriptors than that for the time being. But on the better days, despite his better judgment, Sebastian almost wants to call this thing that they have going… good.

Something begins to happen, so naturally and so subtly that Sebastian doesn’t catch onto it until the feeling is settled: he’s getting used to Jaime’s presence. Both in the clinic and, because his job doesn’t allow for much personal time outside of it, his life. After only a week and a half of forbidden lunches and stolen smiles and fragile, private exchanges of honesty, this arrangement he was so scared of implementing in the beginning has become the best part of his day.

The day after Jaime agreed to eat the sandwiches he bought for them, Sebastian got a little more adventurous. He brought something different every day of the week: bagels from his favorite shop, coffee from a drive-thru instead of the break room, and on a particularly cold day in February, two thermoses of hot soup. It quickly became part of his routine the night before work to think about what Jaime might like to eat the next day. Different ways he could surprise him. Make him happy, if just for a moment.

One Tuesday night, Sebastian finds himself elbow-deep in a real life, grown-up, honest-to-god grocery haul for the first time in… well, a while. Fruits and vegetables and actual ingredients crowd his countertops instead of frozen foods and ready-made meals from the refrigerated section of the store. All because of a sudden impulse that struck earlier in the day to cook something for Jaime instead of picking it up.

Because that is apparently something he does now. He’s not sure what has happened to him. But as he turns to put the peppers away, he catches a flash of his reflection in the microwave door and finds a smile twisted along the bottom of his expression.

It’s a dangerous game he’s playing, letting himself get involved. Attached. It’s all well intended, and it’s—god, of course it’s entirely platonic, but that’s not the issue. With every inch he gains toward Jaime, the impermanence of their arrangement hovers closer, sinking in around them. The knowledge that this can’t go on forever looms heavy, both a threat and a promise.

Sebastian tries not to think too hard about the inevitable, whenever he can avoid it. Which isn’t all that often, to be honest. Smith’s warning is a constant echo in the back of his mind; that “boys like him” don’t go long between contracts, and it’s only a matter of time before he’s contracted out again, and he will disappear from the clinic overnight, and Sebastian will lose any opportunity he has to protect him from harm.

He dreads the day, days or weeks or months from now, when Jaime shows up in his exam room again for another round of invasive testing. Fresh off a contract, subdued and pliant and broken all over again. Flinching under Sebastian’s touch. Keeping his eyes to the ground. Calling him sir. Seeing that fear in Jaime’s eyes will hurt so much more after he has known what it looks like when he smiles.

***

Day 9

Jaime knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he trips on the treadmill during his morning training. It’s only a stumble; he catches himself on the arms of the machine before he can fall, but the momentary lapse in motion is enough to dip his speed below the calculated average, triggering a shock. The device on his throat gives a warning beep before his whole body lights up. And this time he does fall.

The shocks they get during exercise are not usually strong enough to incapacitate. Just sharp, quick jolts to keep them on speed. A threat of worse pain to come if they don’t. But Jaime is a good runner, and he almost never dips below his expected speed threshold, so it catches him off guard.

“On your feet,” a handler’s voice calls from the far end of the room. He scrambles to comply, pulling himself upright and forcing his legs back into a jog. The boy on the machine across from him—a newcomer who has spent the last three nights crying himself to sleep on the bunk below Jaime’s—dutifully avoids his eyes. His muscles are still twitchy and tense despite his best efforts, and the impairment to his range of motion earns him two more shocks before his timer runs out.

It doesn’t get better from there.

As soon as the water shuts off in the showers, plunging the room into damp silence, the boys begin to file out. When Jaime reaches the exit, a hand reaches out, wrapping around his elbow. He jerks to a stop, looking up into the eyes of a handler. It’s the same one who had yelled at him to get up when he fell on the treadmill, he thinks. He’s seen him around, but he doesn’t know his name. It doesn’t matter. He recognizes the look in his eyes, which tells him everything he needs to know about how this is going to go.

The others shuffle past quickly, heads down, pretending not to see the exchange. Pretending not to know. He waits until the room is empty, nodding once to the junior handler who had overseen their morning regimen alongside him. Jaime thinks he might see a twinge of uncertainty in the younger man’s eyes before he cuts them away, turning to leave. Regret maybe, or apology. But Jaime’s thoughts run dry, much like his mouth, when he is pressed against the wall.

It’s nothing new, what happens. It’s quick and it’s dirty, but at least he pulls the lever above the shower head when he’s done, letting Jaime rinse off before he gets dressed.

And then it’s over. The man moves on with his day like it was nothing because to him, it was. He fastens the zipper on his coveralls, runs his fingers through his hair, and escorts Jaime to the cafeteria for breakfast, his hand a heavy weight on his shoulder the whole way.

And Jaime… Well, it’s been a little while. A couple of weeks, at least, since he’s been forced to endure this specific kind of abuse. And it shakes him. Much like the unexpected jolt during his run, it catches him off guard, and maybe that’s his fault for letting it down. Try as he might to tamp down the unraveling feeling inside of him, he is unsteady when he finally reaches the clinic to start his shift.

Dr. Tate is in his office, like always, waiting with a plain, black coffee in hand and a smile. “Good morning,” he says.

“Good morning,” Jaime says. He settles into his seat like normal, not realizing he’s showing his cards until he catches Dr. Tate’s eyes lingering on him. “Are you okay?” He asks with a softness that threatens to break Jaime apart.

He tries for a smile, fails, then settles for another nod. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” he asks after a moment. “You just seem… I don’t know. Somewhere else today.”

“I’m sorry.” He looks up just long enough to see a twitch in the doctor’s mouth that he tries hard not to interpret as disappointment.

“No need,” he says finally. “I just wanted you to know you can talk to me. If you want to. I’ll um… I’ll leave you to it, okay?” He pauses in the doorway before he leaves, turning back to him. “I brought lunch from home again today,” he says with a small, co-conspiratorial smile. “I’m not much of a cook, but there’s enough for two if you want in.”

Jaime, one last time, tries for a smile in return. Maybe, he thinks, his nerves will have settled enough by lunchtime to act like a functioning human again.

***

Dr. Tate does not, in fact, make it for lunch.

A nurse who introduces herself as Aria is the one who knocks on the office door an hour past his usual lunch time. “Tate is stuck in an emergency operation,” she tells him. “He asked me to bring you this.”

She sets a plastic container on the desk in front of him. Steam rises from the top, like it’s been freshly reheated. Inside is… well, he’s not entirely sure what he’s looking at. But there’s chicken and mushrooms and a bunch of vegetables involved, and the smell of garlic makes his mouth water.

“He made it himself.” There is the slight twist of a smirk at the corner of Aria’s mouth when she speaks again. “Told me to tell you that you should feel free to throw it away and get something from the cafeteria if it’s—his words not mine—hot garbage.”

Jaime blinks down at the meal in front of him, trying to process that. All of it. “Thank you,” he says, feeling the first curl of warmth all day.

Lunch comes and goes in as much of a haze as the rest of his day. He eats the lunch that Dr. Tate prepared for him, not allowing himself to think too much about what that makes him feel, then goes back into the tedious pattern of digital filing.

Beyond the crack in the office door, there is a buzz of tense energy in the clinic. Nurses hurry past every couple of minutes, carrying supplies and making frenzied orders for more gauze, more sponges. Jaime tries to shut it out. His well trained instincts make it hard to ignore any amount of tension in the room, whether it’s directed at him or not. But whatever is happening now is none of his business, and he barely has enough mental energy today to focus on his own task at hand.

A sharp splinter of frustration digs into the outer shell of protective numbness. He doesn’t understand why this is getting to him the way it is today. It’s not as if this treatment is anything new for him. It happened far more often under Mr. Torley’s contract than he cares to think about, and it certainly isn’t the first time a handler has done it.

He tries to lose himself in the mindless motion of his work, avoiding his stress where he can’t alleviate it. And it almost works. It’s the slamming of a door from the other side of the clinic and a loud, reverberating shout of anger that startles Jaime to the surface.

“Goddammit!” It takes a few seconds for him to recognize the voice as Dr. Tate’s. He’s never heard it in anger before. Certainly not like this. Jaime grips down on the mouse beneath his palm, sweat prickling at his temples. He can suddenly feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.

He tries to look focused and busy for when Dr. Tate comes in, unbothered by the anger that has his pulse beating wildly against the interior of his collar.

But he doesn’t come. In a flash of movement and color through the crack of the door, Jaime sees him stalk past the office. Dark crimson stains the front of his surgical gown. Another voice Jaime recognizes, not so much angry as vaguely annoyed, follows down the hall.

“Somebody get a domestic crew in here to clean this up.” Dr. Greer, the older man who runs the clinic, pauses outside the office door, checking something on his phone. Jaime can’t help but stare in a moment of horror at the blood covering him, too. Whatever had happened… Jaime decides immediately he doesn’t want to know the specifics.

Before he can force his eyes away, Jaime is caught staring. As if he could feel his eyes on him through the crack in the door, Dr. Greer locks onto him and steps forward, pushing the door open. “Never mind,” he calls over his shoulder. “We have one.”

***

Jaime recognizes where he is being taken almost immediately, and it requires every inch of his willpower not to resist.

It’s been months since Jaime has seen the inside of the operating room at the back of the clinic. In person, anyway. It has hosted no shortage of nightmares in the time since. None quite as vivid as the reality. The last time he was here was one of the worst days of his life. When Dr. Greer ushers him through the sliding glass door, he knows it’s going to be another bad one.

Because the body is still on the table.

Jaime’s legs turn to stone under him, stuttering to a halt in the doorway. He catches a glimpse of an unfamiliar face just before a zipper closes over it, sealing the woman into a tarp-like enclosure. A fucking body bag.

He stands there, frozen by the shock of it, until Dr. Greer nudges him forward. “Come on,” he says.

Jaime pulls in a gasp of a breath and nearly chokes on the scent of blood. It’s everywhere. On the table, on the floor. Stained instruments and soaked-through gauze discarded across the scene, bright red shoe prints smeared on the tile.

“Cleaning supplies are in the closet,” Greer tells him. If he notices Jaime’s distress, he does nothing to acknowledge it, ripping the bloodied surgical gown off his front and tossing it at Jaime’s feet. “If you need more towels, ask a nurse to page another domestic. I don’t want to see a spot of this shit tomorrow morning, got it?”

It takes a moment for Jaime to find his voice, but somewhere, distantly, he hears himself utter a weak “yes sir.” Then he’s gone.

Jaime’s eyes remain fixed on the empty spot on the table long after the team of nurses cart the woman’s body out of the room, leaving him alone. Behind every blink, he sees the flash of her face projected onto the inside of his eyelids—just a sloped nose, a sharp cheekbone, one closed eye—intercut with the image of his own.

He can see it so clearly. His own pale skin and blond curls disappearing behind a black tarp, a zipper. Carried from the room, lifeless. Because that is where this ends, isn’t it? Eventually? Inevitably? Whether it’s someone here in the facility or someone beyond these walls that hold his contract, or some bigger government facility he’ll be shipped off to for labor when he’s old enough and worn enough and broken enough that patrons don’t want to fuck him anymore.

Stop. Jaime, stop.

The aberrant thoughts bring with them the swift, sharp memory of Handler Smith knuckles across his cheek, the shock from a clip that’s not currently pressed to his throat but he can feel it anyway. Jaime bites down on the inside of his lip until it’s not just the smell of blood that overwhelms his senses, it’s the taste too.

Using the pain as an anchor, Jaime tries to adhere to the order he has been given: clean up the mess. He can do that. Your life gets easier when you follow directions, sweetheart, he hears, but he’s not even sure whose voice it is in his head anymore. He just wants… he needs something to be easy right now. So he tries. He gathers the supplies from the closet as instructed—a mop and some bleach and a couple of towels—and hardens his resolve to detach from the twisted reality of what exactly he’s cleaning.

It doesn’t work.

Being in the room is torture on his mind. It would have been torture under any circumstances, but today… He can feel the sweat trickling down his back, the tremor in his hands with every movement.

It’s a panic attack, he tells himself. He knows it is. But none of his logic or the self-soothing tricks he has taught himself over the years can bring him back. Not when he still sees the face of a corpse and a body bag like a mirror every time he closes his eyes. Not when the air in the room smells like blood and death, and every time he looks at the big, silver table in the middle of the room, he sees himself strapped to it and screaming and choking on his own vomit and—

By the time he realizes his breathing has escalated beyond the threshold of his control, he’s too far gone to do anything about it. One moment he is white-knuckling the wooden handle of the mop, scraping it across the floor in long, angry strides, and the next he is using it as support, trying desperately to stay on his feet as he gasps for air.

His knees hit the ground before he feels himself buckling.

***

TAG LIST: @whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar-yetagain @thecyrulik @pumpkin-spice-whump @melancholy-in-the-morning @also-finder-of-rings @insaneinthepaingame @skyhawkwolf @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-world @inpainandsuffering @cicatrix-energy

#Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian #whump #whump writing #whumplr #BBU #like bbu adjacent?#read warnings above

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kiwi-claire · 2 years

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KIWI | Harry’s Version Part 2

link to part one

March 13, 2016

I wake up in the morning to the sound of the front door closing and an empty bed. It takes me a moment to realize what's going on as I recall the events of last night. She left, damn it. I have to say after we had a conversation about our favorite breakfast foods last night I was actually excited to cook for her this morning. I sit up in the bed and groan as I shake from my sleepy drowse. I notice her clothes are still strewn about the room. She must've kept mine when she left, not that I mind.

I internally curse myself for not asking her surname. Maybe I could convince the club to let me look over their guest list? No that's too stalkerish.

Maybe if I go back tonight, she'll have the same idea and be there too? Surely she didn't want to leave so early. Maybe she just had somewhere to be...at...7:15 in the morning. Work perhaps? She did recognize my voice quite easily, maybe she had radio interviews or something to do?

Yeah that's optimistic and I know it. I just hope she left on good terms and doesn't regret it. That would make me feel like a right dick- especially since I enjoyed it so much.

I'm very grateful to have booked the studio to myself this morning to be able to maybe create something on my own. I'm not the best songwriter when it comes to writing without other people. It's hard for me to organize my thoughts and make them cohesive. I'm usually always working with other people because of that. I find it easier when there's someone I can bounce ideas off of. However, I do find it quite nice to take a moment to myself and write things out alone. Some of my songs are for me , not for the world.

I begrudgingly throw my legs over the side of the bed and force myself to get up. I'm typically a morning person, but Sienna's disappearance caught me off guard and left me in a bad mood.

I trudge into the kitchen and start the coffee pot. I put a couple slices of whole wheat bread in the toaster while I heat up a frying pan. I crack two eggs into the pan and tap the salt and pepper shakers over them as they cook.

The fruit bowl is nearly empty and I let out a huff as I grab the last avocado. I make a mental note to text my assistant to please pick up some more for me.

I carefully slice the green fruit and place it over the bread I had buttered, shuffling the over easy eggs on top of said toast. I finish it off with a dash of bagel seasoning - the most LA/American thing I've ever done.

I eat in uncomfortable silence, still processing the fact that she left. Have I always overthought this much? I don’t think I’ve been this infatuated with a girl since secondary school.

Maybe a run around the town will help me clear my thoughts? I finish up my breakfast and put my dishes in the sink after rinsing them. I head back into the bedroom to put on an old t shirt and some running shorts. I pair that with Nikes and a pair of sunglasses to help conceal my identity better, even though I’m only planning to run through my own closed off gated community. Lastly, I put my hair up into a bun to keep it out of the way.

I lock up the house and take off down the street. I run my usual route, trying to think of anything but her but it works to no avail. It seems I may have developed a little crush, not that I’d ever admit that to anyone but myself.

I run for probably close to an hour before I turn and head back towards home. I can’t forget I promised my mum I’d call her today. If I wait too long, it’ll be too late over there on the other side of the globe. I also need to send my sister a book recommendation she was looking for.

I make it back to the iron gate and let myself back in, hearing it automatically lock behind me and walk up the driveway, but not before I notice my acoustic guitar is still sitting in the backseat from the studio session I had yesterday. I don’t go back into the studio until Monday, but might as well write something before tomorrow that we can work on for the album. Or maybe not, maybe I’ll just keep it to myself. Therapy or whatnot.

I grab the guitar from the car and let myself back into the house to fill myself a glass of water before I take both to the back patio to do whatever it is I’m about to do.

I place my glass on the table next to me and get settle the guitar in my lap. I strum a quiet tune, not completely confident in the instrument in my hands. I’ve only started learning just recently in the past few years and the chord progression that’s been stuck in my head is particularly advanced.

I play it a few times before I’m comfortable enough to start singing along. I lick my lips before I start,

“You said ‘I wanna get to know ya’, Why you gotta get my hopes up? You said that you were staying over, but then I woke up to the cold air.” I sing softly. As soon as I started, I immediately knew I will never release this, not in a billion years. It’s not my vibe, but maybe it’s good to get it off my chest.

I continue, higher this time, “How could you make me believe, that there was something in between you and me, yeah? I look around and I don’t see you…

Where were you in the morning baby?”

I start to slap the guitar between each strum, creating a clapping sound, “You didn’t leave your number for me. Left me without a warning, baby. How do you, how do you just walk away? How do you, how do you just walk away?”

March 14, 2016

I show up for my second studio session of the week early, as usual. I had a productive morning, got up early, went for a run, and grabbed myself a green smoothie on the way here. I'm ready to write music.

"Good morning." I greeted Tyler and Jeff in the lobby. "The studio occupied?"

Tyler checks his watch, "Only until the hour. They've got three minutes to wrap up in there."

Jeff rolls his eyes, "It's Rowland in there, and she can be a bitch about studio time. I vote Styles has to go kick her out if she goes over."

"She's nice. What've you got against her?" Tyler laughs.

"She's fuckin' scary." Jeff admits and Tyler and I laugh.

"I'll go in there." I volunteer, "I'm sure she's just lost track of time."

In reality, I just want to meet her. Put a name to the face. Rowland is one of my favorite writers, it would be a dream to work with her in person.

She wrote for the band multiple times. She was actually the collaborator I was telling Sienna about the other night. We never met in person, but the writing process was one of my favorite experiences in the studio.

I'm about to knock on the door when I see the light near the door flicker on. They're recording. So instead of interrupting, I crack open the door to listen in. Like I said, her process has always fascinated me.

I first make eye contact with the guy behind the panel and he gives me a nod of acknowledgment before signaling for me to keep quiet.

Then my eyes meet her. Her back is facing me and I can see her long, brown, tangled hair. It looked like she'd rolled out of bed to get here, and somehow I found it admirable. Her nails were painted red and she donned bike shorts and a baggy tshirt. She sent the guy a thumbs up to start the track, once she'd adjusted the mic to her liking.

It's when she started to sing, that my eyes widened and I finally put two and two together. Sienna Fucking Rowland. No wonder Fools Gold is her favorite song, Fools Gold is her song.

I stared at her in shock as I listened to her shun her ex through song.

"Fuck that boy I'm over it." She waves her hand in the air. "I hope she gettin' some good sex. Hope she ain't fakin' out like I did, babe."

She has a stunning voice. Even when she's cursing.

"Took four long years to call it quits. Fuck that boy I'm over it." The guy behind the board begins dancing foolishly and I can't help but smile at their laid back energy.

"Guess I should say thank you for the hate yous and the bad news, oh baby, I'm cool by the way. Ain't sure I loved you, anyway. Go head, boy Imma live my life, my life, yeah." Sienna began swaying slightly as well.

"Don't hold back on me Sise." The guy orders over the mic.

She nods before belting the chorus, "Shout out to my ex, you're really quite the man. You made my heart break and that made me who I am. Heres to my ex, hey look at me now. Well I'm all the way up I swear you'll never bring me down. Shout out to my ex, you're really quite the man. You made my heart break and that made me who I am. Here's to my ex, hey look at me now. Well I'm all the way up I swear you'll never, you'll never bring me down."

She pulls off her headphones and even though I can't see her face, I can tell she's grinning. She gives the guy an air high five from inside the booth, and I can't help but applaud her as she exits the booth.

Her head snaps in my direction and I don't miss the look of horror that crosses her face. She tries to subtly move her hair over her neck to cover up the mark I made, but I notice.

I smirk, leaning my body against the doorway and crossing my arms over my chest.

"That was sick. Quite a badass song you've got going there." I compliment her, and I can't help but find the flush of her cheeks endearing.

She didn't budge for a moment, seemingly stuck in place. So I spoke again,

"Y'know, I didn't realize I was in the presence of such a legend the other night. Shoulda asked for an autograph." I joke.

"But I think this'll do for now." I tease as I gesture to the hickey on my neck left by her, hoping to see her blush again.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and her mouth hangs open slightly. Her friend is behind the soundboard frozen in place as he watches our encounter. Perhaps I'm being too bold? I don't fucking know. It's been ages since I liked a girl, let alone been allowed to speak to one without permission.

"I mean, you are the Sienna Rowland, right?" I continue, "You wrote for the band. Fools Gold, Infinity, like a bunch of our songs. I never got to meet you in person during all that time."

I truly am at a loss for words at how we have never crossed paths up until this point.

"I...yeah, I did." She shrugs, looking down at the floor as her face gets redder.

All of a sudden, she begins collecting things in a rush heading for the doorway. I can feel my face falter when I realize she's about to leave.

"Uh, sorry for cutting into your studio time." She apologizes, keeping her head ducked down.

"It's not a problem," I wave off her apology with a smile. What happened to the rumored 'bitch about studio time'? "Song is sick, gonna be a hit I'm sure."

"Um, thank you." She accepts the compliment, despite her flustered state. I'm enjoying this way too much.

"I...excuse me." She mumbles when she starts to head for the door since my body is taking up much of the door frame.

I shifted slightly, letting her through but couldn't help but grab her wrist as she slipped past me. I need to see her again.

"You snuck out on me, didn't get a chance to save your number." I point out, looking into her deep blue eyes.

"Sorry, but what I did the other night was unprofessional and very out of character for me, I hope you can understand." She rushes out with shake of her head.

I felt my heart drop and my mood shift. She thought it was a mistake? I mean, it definitely wasn't the most rational decision of my life but I can't say I regret it all that much.

"Good luck with your session." She offers a sympathetic smile when she notices my shift in demeanor, before turning and walking to the exit.

Her friend/producer...boyfriend...? Whoever he was he started scrambling to follow her like a lost puppy.

"Uh...it's very n-nice to meet you sir. I'm Luke." He stutters out with a short nod my way, before sprinting down the hall after her.

I could see them just beyond the glass doors talking animatedly toward each other. More-so Luke. They seem to be fighting, but I can't really tell...fuck. Are they...together?

I have to shake the thoughts away before I think about it too hard. I don't know anything, I'm probably just reading too far into it.

I jump when I feel Jeff's hard on my shoulder, "That was quick."

I shrug, "Yeah, they were just finishing up." I tell him.

"And did she tell you off for interrupting, or did she make her little boy toy do it for her?" He laughs and I tense.

"Jeff, you know full well that only happened twice. And you were being an ass both those times." Tyler laughs. "She probably swooned at the sight of H."

“Please,” Jeff scoffs. “She’s too busy worshiping the ground that Luke guy walks on to swoon over this guy.”

Fuck. She’s definitely with the guy.

“Alright, well H, got anything less depressing we can write about today.” Jeff asks.

I’ve found the best way to get over something is to write about it. This next one is dedicated to you, Miss Rowland.

—————

Song - Where Were You in the Morning by Shawn Mendes

thank you so so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought! Be honest!

Love you all!! Thanks for being here

- Claire xx

p.s. don't forget to follow me on insta @kiwi_claire_ for special content 😘

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businessconsiderations · 16 days

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27,949 steps

Woke up at 5:30a, went to bed at 10:30p, nearly perfect weather, crisp and cool low-to-mid-50s in the morning, sunny and clear mid-70s in the middle of the day, back to crisp and cool low-to-mid-50s at the end of the day. I ran, I hiked, I walked.

Started my Saturday earlier than I'd prefer because we had to leave for soccer at 8:30a and I wanted to get my run in before we got the day started.

I lingered a bit too long on the couch, drinking coffee and reading, so I felt I didn't have time for 5 miles--my minimum mileage for what a weekend "long run" is--so I only ran 4.25 mi: Ekana, left on Lockwood, left on Old Lockwood, past the back entrance of the high school, turned around and came back, 39:46, 9:19 pace, first 3 miles in the 9s, mile 4 at 8:36, final quarter mile at 8:24 pace.

At 8a I was at 7,302 steps.

We drove to Sanford for my daughter's game--call time 9:15a, game time 10a. Small sports complex, not much walking to the field from the car. We drove to Lake Mary for my son's game--call time 12:45p, game time 1:30p--stopping at Chic Fil A for lunch and Starbucks for coffee on the way. 12 grilled chicken nuggets with kale krunch and water to drink, drip coffee instead of an americano because the line was long and we were crunched for time.

At 4p I was at 12,127 steps.

My wife and daughter had plans with friends, so it was just the boys and me for Saturday evening. My younger son needed to chillax since he just played a game and he would be playing 11v11 with no subs the next day. I could tell my older son was bored--he had just hung out at home while the rest of us were having our soccer Saturday--so I asked if he wanted to go on a hike. He said yes.

We did the small loop plus the big loop at the Econ River Wilderness area, 2.8 mi, over an hour and 12 min, though we stopped to admire the scenery in a few spots, especially by the river. We talked a little about school and life, but mostly we just joked and laughed, the boy cracks me up, his improv skills are amazing. I read the parenting advice years ago that you should make sure you kids are the type people you want to be around. Never understood what that meant when they were toddlers, I get it now I have teenagers.

At 6p I was at 18,970 steps.

I thought I was done for the day. I told the boys I didn't feel like going out for dinner, I'd make them something. I hate cooking in a messy kitchen, so I had them clean it for 15 minutes or so before I got started. While I waited I watched the Man City highlights on YouTube since I missed the game while watching my kids' games earlier. I told myself I'd watch the full replay on Peacock, but it was a 5-1 win vs. Luton with a rotated lineup, I wasn't going to take much from it, watching the goals on the highlight reel was good enough for this day.

I cooked chicken tenderloin in a pan on the stove with taco seasoning. In another pan I sauteed spinach and a red pepper with everything bagel seasoning. I microwaved cilantro lime rice. I mixed it all together and served it with their choice of salsa and shredded cheese for toppings. The boys weren't enthused but they ate it. I thought it was delicious. I said they could have some chocolate if they cleaned up. I took the dog on a walk and folded laundry with my AirPods in so I didn't have to listen to them clean.

At 9p I was at 23,397 steps.

Again I thought I was done for the day. I put on my pajamas and settled in to watch the final third of Field of Dreams on Amazon, I watched the first two-thirds the night before, April also puts me in the mood for baseball movies. I miss baseball sometimes. My oldest son watched the ending with me. He was so confused, he hadn't watched any part the night before. I talked to him about how I call it "play catch" and that I'd never heard anyone say "have a catch" except in this movie or in reference to this movie. I love playing catch with the football with my boys. I told him I never really remember throwing the football with my dad, it was always baseball. Not going to lie, starting to get a little emotional.

My wife called me just after 9:30p, said she was on her way home and that she needed some steps, would I walk with her? Sure, I said, and I put on a T-shirt, shorts, a hoodie and flip flops. We walked twice around the block, one time with the dog, one time without. She thanked me for helping her stay active. It's what I do I said.

At 10:30p I went to bed with 27,949 steps.

#middle age run blog #health #family #sports

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mill3nniumforc3 · 2 months

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2023: A Year in Review: Part 2

After breakfast, Russell and I decided to explore Ocean City since we didn't think we'd ever be back. I asked Bridgid if she wanted to come with us, but she said no. We drove towards the end of the strip and parked in a public lot to explore (we ended up going to an ATM in Dunkin to get cash for the lot). We explored the boardwalk, and bought a few souvenirs. The weather was so nice, and it was cool seeing the beaches so crowded. Once we were done exploring, we rode back up to the condo to relax and eat lunch. We ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chips outside while looking at the ocean. After lunch, my parents and Bridgid left to get ready for the wedding, leaving me and Russell by ourselves. We got ourselves ready, and relaxed before heading down. My mom gave us the name of the place where we could park. Once we were parked, we went to the beach to find the wedding set-up. We sat down in the seats, where my mom, Bridgid, Fiona, and Zach joined us. Fiona became the stand-in maid of honor since Haley (Moira's high school bestie who was supposed to be the maid of honor) somehow wasn't able to make it despite KNOWING when the wedding was and having accommodations offered (including my mom offering to drive her and have her stay with them). The wedding itself was nice, despite Duncan interrupting the wedding by hopping and ribbiting like a frog, and then throwing around the flowers in the sand.

After the wedding, there was a small reception held at Seacrets Distillery. The bartender was a very heavy pourer, and I got drunk after a drink and a half. I started with the signature drink that everyone was drinking, and then had a coconut rum and pineapple juice cocktail. I went to the bathroom during the reception and nearly fell off the toilet when I went to grab the toilet paper. I asked if anyone else thought the toilet was wiggly, but everyone said no. Moira initially told me there wouldn't be food for me to eat because she "forgot" that I was a vegetarian (it's been 12 years!), but she managed to get one of the pizzas changed last minute to something I could eat. At 9pm, the reception ended. Everyone was going to head to the bar for an afterparty, but we opted out of it since we had to drive back to Georgia the next morning.

June 18th, we woke up to the smoke detector going off. My parents decided to cook breakfast since me and Russell had to get going. We had pancakes, eggs, and bacon (I didn't eat the bacon obviously). After eating, it was time to go. I said goodbye to my parents and Bridgid, but I knew I'd see them again very soon. We made one more stop to McDonald's so I could get a bagel, and we were on our way. We wanted to avoid going through Baltimore and D.C. again, so we drove on US-13 out of Maryland and into Virginia until we got to Norfolk, where we switched to US-58 until we got to I-85. We followed that all the way back home, stopping at Sheetz again for dinner. By the time we got back to the house, we were exhausted... and we found out our A/C went kaput while we were gone, so the house was hot. Ick!

We thankfully didn't have to wait long for the A/C to be replaced. It was replaced on June 20th.

On June 25th, Kathy had a freak accident. She was unloading the fulfillment center truck when she didn't realize the door wasn't latched. She commented on how windy it was outside, and then she got smacked on the back of the head by the door. I was attending another car when it happened, so I quickly finished up with the customer and ran to check on Kathy. Another customer in the lot who saw what happened worked in the medical field and helped out. I asked Kathy if she wanted water, and she said yes. I gave her a bottle of water and got the other customer's order ready. The next day, she confirmed that she had a concussion from the incident.

July

The Oscar Mayer Wienermobile was visiting UGS. I got my picture taken with it!

On July 3rd, I had another incident at work. (TW: medical, blood) I was walking in our area when I accidentally cut my leg on a protruding shelf. I thought it was just a scratch, but I was bleeding pretty heavily. I asked Imelda for help, and she called for Bert on the radio. We thankfully got the bleeding under control, and all I requested was a tetanus shot, which I got two days later. I decided to get a COVID booster too while I was at it, since we were going out of the country soon.

I was off on the Fourth of July, but we didn't do anything special. We grilled at home, but that's it.

I had a pregnancy scare. My period was very late, and if we didn't have a big trip coming up, I probably wouldn't have been as upset about it, but I was. I vented to Kathy and Anna about my concerns. Anna offered to buy me a pregnancy test, but I didn't want our coworkers to ask me questions. I ended up buying tests on my own from Walmart. I took one of them when I got home to see, and it was clearly a negative. Two hours later, my period started. Go figure!

Our biggest adventure of the year (our trip to St. Lucia) started on July 15th. We got up while it was still dark outside to catch our flight. We parked at The Parking Spot, took the shuttle to the airport, and made our way through TSA (which was surprisingly very easy!). We stopped at Concourse D to get money out of the ATM, then went to Concourse E to get breakfast before our flight (I got a chocolate croissant and campfire mocha from Caribou Coffee). It was supposed to leave at 9:30am, but ended up being pushed back to 10:45am. After eating breakfast, we walked to the gate when I saw someone pushing a u-boat with Twizzlers. I wanted to follow them, but Russell told me we had to go to the gate. We sat in the corner by the window to watch the planes while we played on our Switches. Russell went to the bathroom at one point, and stopped at the gift shop to get us drinks and gum... and he also bought me Twizzlers. When it was getting close to boarding time, I went to the bathroom since I didn't want to go on the plane (it was a 4.5 hour flight to St. Lucia from Atlanta). We got on the plane and took our seats, only for us to be delayed because one of the overhead compartments in first class wouldn't stay closed. At 11:15am, we finally took off. I put on my headphones and watched some movies, which made the flight go by rather quickly. I drank all of my water bottle plus water offered on the plane, so I inevitably had to go to the bathroom on the plane. I was nervous because I was afraid we'd go through turbulence and I'd get locked in the bathroom (Russell told me that wouldn't have happened). After I was done, I walked back to my seat. We landed at UVF around 4pm, and as soon as we made it through customs, we were greeted by Sandals workers. We went to the Sandals Lounge area, where I went to the bathroom again (all that water I drank didn't help) and had my first of many drinks on vacation. We got into a van that took us to the resort. It was estimated to be an hour long drive, but it ended up being closer to two hours because of a car accident (lots of shitty drivers everywhere, I guess). When we finally got to our resort, we were greeted by workers in song. Since we arrived so late, we couldn't have our tour. The workers brought our luggage up for us while we got checked in. When we got in our room, we freshened up before heading for dinner, but not before taking in the view. We could see the pool and the ocean. We went to The Cricketer's Pub, where I had Fish and Chips (which came with mushy peas. I hate peas, so I gave them to Russell) and bread pudding, which was topped with rum raisin ice cream. I ate around the raisins because I don't like raisins.

We woke up around 8:30am on July 16th, excited for our first full-day of vacation. We got breakfast at the Pavilion, which was set up buffet-style. I had smoked salmon (which was served cold for some reason?), banana bread, a banana (the first of many I'd eat. St. Lucia has the best bananas!), and mandarin oranges. After breakfast, we went to get our tour with the Club Sandals Members Services. Two other couples were going on the tour with us, and we were led by Sameera. She showed us the jewelry store, the spa, amphitheater, restaurants, and other amenities were. After the tour, Russell and I changed into bathing suits to check out the pool and swim-up bar. After a while, Russell went to get us pizzas from Bella Napoli (I just wanted cheese). I was a little skeptical, but the pizza was actually fantastic. I happily ate the whole thing, and Russell also got us a chocolate banana pizza for dessert. After being in the pool for a while longer, we went back to our room to shower and dress for dinner. We went to Neptunes, where I had Calamari Fritti, Linguine alle Vongole, and Baklava. After dinner, we went to an event being hosted called The (Not-So) Newlywed Game. Russell said we should volunteer for it, but I felt kinda awkward about it since we aren't married. It was funny to watch though.

July 17th: we got up decently early again, and decided to make it a complete pool day. We got up for breakfast, where we went to the Pavilion again for a breakfast buffet. I had noticed there was an omelet bar, so I chose to take advantage of it. After we finished our breakfast, we got changed into bathing suits and went to the pool. The staff hosted fun activities in the pool, from trivia to pool volleyball. There was of course plenty of drinks to be had, and I found my favorite to be DB (which was a Dirty Banana haha). A friend we made in the pool told us to try out the Bob Marley, which wasn't bad, except I don't like strawberry daiquiri. After a while, we decided to get ready for dinner. We went to Pitons, where I had St. Lucian Accra, Pan Seared Snapper, and Soufrière Chocolate Cake. After dinner, we went to the pool to watch a group that danced with fire (and ate it!). They also did limbo under fire poles, and after their set, they invited guests to limbo under an unlit pole.

July 18th: we slept in a bit that day, and we chose to make today a beach day. We ordered in breakfast, but it wasn't as good as it was in the buffet. After we finished eating, we dressed in bathing suits and went to the beach. We found that every cabana was taken since we slept in, so we left our stuff by the pool and went into the ocean. I got a little nervous when we went a little ways away from the shore, but we got to lay down on rafts that were on the buoys. It was actually very relaxing. After a while, we decided to head back to the pool so we could reapply sunscreen and see if anything cool was going on. We kept an eye on the time since we had dinner reservations and wanted to have time to shower and get dressed. We made it to our reservation at La Toc, where I had Tartare de Thon, Roulade Végétalienne, and Opéra Pavé. After dinner, we decided to just chill in the room.

July 19th: since we were so disappointed in the room service breakfast, we went to the Pavilion for breakfast. After we finished, we chose to stay in the room for a bit and figure out what we wanted to do. After we ate lunch, we chose to just go to the pool for a little while. We put on sunscreen before going on down, and got some drinks. I saw they were doing a tie-dye event, and they were selling them for $20 each (which honestly isn't a bad price!). We got our t-shirts made, and they said we could pick them up in the gift shop later. I diligently put my sunscreen back on after 80 minutes, but as I came to find, it just wasn't enough. We went to get dressed for dinner, and my back was completely red. It hurt so bad, but I sucked it up. We got dinner at Armando's, which required us to take the shuttle since it was up a hill. I had Parmigiana di Melanzane, Rigatoni Bolognese Vegani, and Tiramisu. After dinner, Russell rubbed my back with some aloe we brought.

Part 3 up now. Fucking character limit...

#my life #my year #2023

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loiswolf · 10 months

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Day 49 July 19 Red Rock - Schreiber 129km

When I stepped out the front door of the Red Rock Inn to check the weather this morning, my comment was ‘what a gorgeous day!

The man in the car pack putting his bags in the car didn’t hear me but turned around and said ‘ what a gorgeous day!’ It really was!!

Even the curry smell from last night was overpowered by the delicious smell of baking cakes and muffins. The Indian girl last night was a long term guest, not the cook. Anyone is allowed to use the huge industrial sized kitchen and I suspect she does so often. Her room mate, another Indian girl was doing the baking. She makes fresh cakes and muffins for the continental breakfast every morning. I ate my usual breakfast and grabbed some goodies to go.

First stop was to take a photo of this sign. It was raining when I passed it yesterday.

Although Heather’s achievements are quite notable, they are also 34 years old.. Maybe a better sign would let people know of some of the current delights of Red Rock.

Nearly 8kms back to the Highway then another 9kms and I was ready for my second breakfast at Nipigon. There was not going to be many places to stop today so I thought I’d drop in for a quick coffee and bagel. I didn’t have to wait to be served because the Indian girl from last night works there and was happy to give me prompt service.

I knew today was going to have a lot of climbing so I wasn’t really looking forward to it. In total there was over 900m ascending. First thing after Nipigon was this rather impressive bridge.

At least there was a view every now and then

this is looking back down the first big hill

There were two big climbs before I came to the Gravel River Inn at 64kms. A great place for a break. I was the only person in the restaurant so felt like I was being watched by Archie the elderly owner. At least he was able to give me an accurate description of the road ahead…..three climbs, the first one 3kms long and 7%. There was no internet up there and he turned out to be spot on. I wonder if he used to be a cyclist. Definitely not cycling now.

This photo was taken near the top of the descent after the biggest climb.

It was a long, fast , cold run downhill but if you look closely you can see the next climb up ahead on the next hill.

I didn’t find all the climbing at all distressing today. Shirley has lots of gears which I make good use of. It was also pleasantly cool. If it were hot I wouldn’t cope very well at all. The motel owner at Upsala told me they had temperatures of 38° last week. Looks like I missed that too!

After reaching the top of the next big hill I stopped to put Pinkie on so I didn’t freeze on the downhill run. Since I’d stopped, I decided to stretch because my leg muscles were getting tight…then I had a quick bite to eat…a drink…then I noticed the traffic was being held up by a stop/go man so I stretched again. The line of cars was back to me by then and a man in a huge yellow construction vehicle asked my why I hadn’t sidled to the front of the queue.

We chatted while we waited and he gave me his version of the road ahead. He wasn’t quite as accurate at Archie but he was right about it being cold down the bottom of the hill near the lake. I was glad I had Pinkie on.

The last climb was a lot more spread out and the downhill stretch into Schreiber was only 2kms long. It took a while to check in because the motel is also a gas station, Pizza Hut ( after 5pm) and Robins Donuts. There is only one man working there. The motel isn’t terrible but it isn’t great either. The first thing I did was move the ash can right outside my door. Glad I did, there’s a couple of people puffing away a few doors down where I left it.

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spiderispunk · 2 years

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Lay Your Hands On Me

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Smut (18+). Fluff. Oral Sex. Fingering. Bi!Peter makes an appearance.

Summary: Just some soft morning sex with one, Peter Parker.

A/N: This a companion piece to my fic ambulance (not gonna link it because tumblr is iffy with links but it’s on my masterlist). You don’t really have to read that fic to read this one though. Title is literally the Bon Jovi song I listened to on repeat while writing this fic.

This fic is for @rae-gar-targaryen (even though you’ve already read it...) Happy birthday, my love!

The sounds you wake up to the next morning are more familiar.

Peter’s rolled on top of you in his sleep. He’s a comforting weight against your back; his body warm and solid, pressing you down into the mattress. One of his hands has bunched up your stolen shirt to cup your breast. He sleeps soundly, snoring softly against the back of your neck.

You run your fingers over his trapped arm and Peter hums and snuggles closer to you.

It would be so easy to close your eyes and fall back asleep. You’d doze off in minutes like this, with Peter’s dewy breaths in your ear and his arms wrapped tightly around you. It’s a tempting proposition, your first class isn’t until later anyways, and you haven’t really had a lazy morning with Peter since the semester started. Between Spider-Man things and your junior year of college, you’d barely had time for anything else.

But it’s morning, and the whole world has woken up around you. Horns blare outside your window, people yell on the street. A floor up, your neighbor blares her workout playlist: old school hip-hop, classic rock and 90s pop hits trickle through your ceiling along with the clunk of her sneakers.

And still, Peter slumbers. Dead to it all.

Last night must have really taken it outta him.

The toilet flushes, and your roommate begins their morning routine. A shower. Breakfast. Some last minute assignments before their 8 AM. Val was an early bird. You almost envied them. As a rule, you didn’t get out of bed before 9.

You listen to them go about their business, humming under their breath as they brew a pot of coffee and make a bagel. There’s a knock on your bedroom door a few minutes later.

“Hey! You up? I’m about to head out.”

“Yeah,” you yell back, trying to wiggle out from under Peter.

The doorknob turns slowly. Your eyes flash from the Spider-Man suit still lying crumpled on the floor, to the mask haphazardly thrown on your nightstand.

“Don’t come in!” you shout, reaching for the mask in a panic. Your fingertips just barely brush it, but you can’t get a solid grip on it. “I’m…naked.” You stretch just a little farther and your fingers close over the spandex. “Let me throw something on.” You shove it under your pillow.

Peter huffs in your ear. “Stop moving.”

“Get off !” You nudge Peter harder and he flips onto his back begrudgingly. “One sec!” You kick the Spidey suit under your bed and open the door just a crack, using your body to block Val’s view of Peter.

Val holds up your black taser. “Found this in the living room. You should be careful where you leave this lying around.” They grin, showing dimples deep-set into their brown skin.

“Ah jeez!” You act surprised. “Clumsy me. It must have fallen out of my bag last night.” You take it from them and move to shut the door. “Thanks. Bye!”

“Wait.” They wedge their Doc Marten between the door and the jamb. “Does Thai sound good for dinner? I know it’s my turn to cook, but I’ve got an exam tonight and I know I’ll be too tired. I’ll pay.”

“Yeah, Thai sounds great.”

Val twists their fingers into the leather strap of their bag. “Sweet. You should ask Peter if he wants to come by. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“I’m sure he’ll stop by if he’s not busy.” You bite your bottom lip. Peter was much closer than they thought. “Good luck on your test.”

“Thanks.” They tap your door twice. “See ya.”

You close the door and lean back against it. Peter is sitting up in bed now, eyelids still drooping with sleep and hair all mussed from lying on it. He looks at you with bleary eyes and a dopey grin.

“Thai?” He asks.

“Oh you heard that?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Uh huh.” Peter nods and motions you towards him with a crook of his finger. “Thai’s my favorite.”

You drop the taser on your desk and saunter over slowly. “Is it?” There’s a coy lilt to your voice as you crawl onto the bed.

“Yeah, it is.” Peter pulls you onto his lap and rests his chin on your collarbone. His arms wind around your waist and his hand slips under the borrowed shirt to rub the small of your back.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to stay for dinner then.” You fix his hair, tugging on the dark strands lightly, and Peter purrs, leaning into your touch.

His lips brush sweetly against your wrist. “Guess I will.” He nestles his face into your chest and hums. “I think I actually like you wearing my shirt.”

You grin and rest your chin on the top of his head. “You’re not mad that I stole it anymore?”

Peter kisses your chest. “I’ve had a change of heart.” His fingers drift down to grab a handful of your ass.

He rocks your hips forward slightly, and it’s then that you feel his half-hard dick straining against your inner thigh.

You smirk. Right … a change of heart.

“Shame.” You play along, grinding down against his lap and his breath catches in his throat. “I thought Spider-Man was going to have to arrest me.”

Peter tilts his head back. “Arrest you?” His eyebrows furrow. “Why–why would he arrest you?”

“Can’t have a thief running around New York, now can we?” You lean forward, lips barely brushing over his own.

He leans forward, seeking your kiss and groans when you pull back and deny him. “No, we cannot.”

Your hands travel down your body slowly and lift up the edges of the shirt, revealing inch after inch of bare skin. Peter follows your movements with sharp eyes. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“So what are you going to do about it… Spider-Man ?” You taunt, bunching the material up under your breasts.

He tilts his head to the side, a smirk slowly spreading over his face. “I guess Spider-Man is going to have to take it back.”

Peter pins you on your back and your shitty bedframe squeals in protest at the sudden movement. He slots his body against yours, grabbing your thigh and hooking it around his waist. He’s kissing you instantly, mouth messily sealing over yours, hot and bruising. It’s not long before his tongue prods at the seam of your joined lips, begging to press into you.

Your lips part, welcoming the intrusion, and a moan bubbles up from the back of your throat. A moan Peter greedily swallows in earnest search of another. His hands slide under your shirt, deft fingers squeezing your skin. His lips trail across your jaw and down your neck, tongue curling against your pulse.

You tug at the waistband of his thermal underwear, pulling them down just enough to ease his cock out. You lick your palm and curl your fingers around it. Peter bites out a curse against your neck as you start to slowly stroke him.

“Shit, baby,” he nearly whines. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

His thumb finds your clit through your thin underwear and you spread your legs wider to give him more access. One hand stays between your thighs, teasing your dripping cunt, the other squeezes your breast, toying with your nipple. He tucks kisses and bites along your neck and shoulder all the while.

“ Ah , Peter.” You arch into his touch, rocking your hips up to meet the steady circles his thumb rubs against your clit. You’re embarrassingly wet now and aching for more than just his fingers.

He grins against your neck, a little smug at your obvious desperation, but another flick of your wrist has him choking on his tongue. “Need you, honey,” he gasps, fingers twisting into your underwear.

You lift your hips as he wiggles the material down your thighs. His body leaves yours to push his own underwear down, but he can’t seem to get it off fast enough for his liking. Peter curses under his breath as he awkwardly kicks his legs free.

You chuckle, helping him free himself. “Smooth.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he chides, leaning his forehead against yours, but he’s laughing too.

You lock eyes again, the unspoken yearning reflected in the lingering stare. He sucks in two deep breaths, steadying himself, and then his hands are all over your body once again.

Peter pulls the shirt off of you. “I’ll take that.” He tosses it behind him and pauses for a moment to admire your naked body all spread out for him. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

Though he’s seen you like this so many times before, your skin still prickles under his gaze. It’s insane the way your body reacts to him even after all these months of being together. Your heart hammers in your chest so loudly you’d think he’d still be able to hear it if he didn’t have super hearing. Your pussy throbs, sticky as you wait for him to make his move.

The seconds pass with heated glances shared between the two of you. Desire hangs in the air between you, white hot and so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Peter’s eyes zero in on your cunt, and he bites his bottom lip as he trails a hand up your inner thigh. You can barely stay still; your breathing turns shallow with anticipation. Slowly, oh so achingly slowly , his fingers meet your folds and he eases a finger into you.

Your eyelids flutter shut, and a cry falls into the tense atmosphere.

He watches your every reaction with an intense stare, drinking in every moan, every twitch of your lips, every stutter of your breath. He works you slowly and with precision, his finger crooking just right in a way that has you almost seeing stars. It’s not long until a second joins the first, and his pace grows faster.

You grip the sheets, toes curling as the first inkling of your orgasm lights deep within you. Under Peter’s practiced touch it blooms into an inferno in mere moments.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Peter mumbles and drops a kiss to your belly. “Want to watch you come for me.” His lips trail lower, brushing over your pussy. “Want it so bad. Can you show me?” His mouth wraps around your clit, warm and wet, and he teases it with gentle flicks of his tongue.

“Y–yes. I’m gonna, gonna come,” you babble as the swell of your orgasm grows. “Feels so good, Pete, oh .”

“That’s good, honey.” His fingers curl around your thigh, holding you open for him. “Want you to feel good.”

Your hand twists into his hair, searching for an anchor as the world begins to splinter around you. Peter sucks your clit back into his mouth and it tips the scale. You come with a hoarse shout, chanting Peter’s name like a prayer. He moans against you, tongue replacing his fingers as he indulges in the taste of you. He doesn’t part from you, licking and sucking until you have to push him away from your oversensitive clit.

“Fuck, I love the way you taste,” Peter praises, wiping at his chin with the back of your hand. “Could stay here all day if you let me.”

He rocks back onto his heels, looking almost comical with his flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. Almost. Those brown eyes of his are even darker now, shot through with lust that makes his stomach twist. There’s nothing funny about the way his eyes travel over your body, clinging to every inch of damp skin.

Peter wraps his hand, still slick with your cum, around his cock and jerks himself off slowly. He tilts his head back, eyelids fluttering shut as he takes the edge off. “You felt incredible around my fingers. Wanna be inside you so bad.”

You angle your hips so the tip of his dick rests against the seam of your cunt. Peter rolls his hips forward, barely pressing into you and grunting when you swallow him deeper.

“Ah, shit,” he moans.

“Peter.” You grab his wrist.

“Yeah, baby?” His eyebrows pinch together, jaw clenching as he catches the barest hint of your warmth.

You pull him closer. “I want you to fuck me.” You lift your hips impatiently.

“I’m gonna.” He rocks his hips forward.

You squeeze his arm. “Want you to fuck me now .”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” Peter leans over you, resting his weight on his elbows. “Ready for me?”

“Yeah.” You cup his face, rubbing your thumb against his cheek. “Fuck me, Peter.”

“Shh. I’ve got you, honey.” He presses his forehead to yours and fills you with a single thrust.

You tilt your head back, eyes rolling into your skull. “ Oh shit .”

“ Fuck .” Peter gasps against your jaw. “Goddammit.”

That noise of appreciation is one you’ll never tire of hearing. You pull Peter’s lips back to yours, swallowing the shallow moans he makes as he begins to grind his hips forward slowly. Your bodies writhe together, falling into a sloppy rhythm that’s less about reaching the end and more about just feeling each other.

Peter’s chin drops against your shoulder. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, snapping his hips against yours in deep thrusts. “Oh God, fuck. Your pussy feels so fucking good.” He fists the pillow beside your head. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

You hook your leg around his waist, digging the heel of your foot into the back of his thigh. Your nails dig into his shoulder and Peter nips at your jaw. “Y’fuck me so good, baby.”

“I love you,” he mumbles, voice cracking. “Love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper in his ear and Peter shudders.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, sweetheart,” he says. “Not– ah – not when you’re squeezing me like this.” His cheeks flush red.

“S’okay.” You force those deep eyes to meet yours. “Want you to come.”

You can tell he’s close; his hips meet yours in a stilted rhythm, his breath grows shallower each second, and the grip he has on your pillowcase threatens to tear a hole in it. You hold him tightly against you, whispering praises in his ear.

“You’re so good to me. Always make me feel so good.” You pair your words with a clench of your walls, and Peter’s hips falter.

He buries his head in your chest, pressing sloppy kisses against the side of your breast. “I’m gonna come, baby.”

“Come, honey.”

Peter’s hips meet yours a few more times, before he slips his dick from inside you. He jerks himself wildly, a broken groan forcing its way out of his chest as he comes. You moan quietly, as his cum splashes on your stomach and inner thighs.

He plops onto his back beside you and stares up at the ceiling. “Holy shit.”

“ Yeah .” You chuckle and run your fingers through his damp hair. “Still want your shirt back?”

“Keep it.” Peter kisses the back of your hand. “Best change of heart I’ve ever had.”

You snort. “That’s what we’re still calling it?”

“Uh huh. That’s the story and I’m sticking to it.”

You brush your fingers over the bandage on his side. “Is that cut still bothering you?”

“Can’t even feel it anymore. All thanks to my wonderful nurse.” He grabs your hand and holds it against his chest.

“I think that has more to do with your superpowers, than my ability to stitch you up.” You squeeze his hand. “But I’ll take a little credit.”

Peter grins at you so big his eyes squint.

You push yourself up on your elbow. “I gotta use the bathroom and take a shower. I’m gross.”

“I’m gross too, can I come?” He kisses your back.

“Only if you keep your hands to yourself.” You glance at your phone. “I’ve got a class in an hour.”

“You can skip.” Peter’s lips brush the back of your neck. “It’s just one class.”

You shake your head. “It’s Dr. Richards’ class.”

His lips pause. “Dr. Richards?” Peter raises his eyebrows. “Is uhh…Dr. Richards allowing people to sit in this semester?”

“He is . Are you going to pay attention to his class, or are you just going to stare at him for an hour?” You tease and nudge your shoulder against his.

Peter had a fairly obvious crush on your physics professor. He and pretty much half of the population of your university

“I can multitask.” He shrugs.

“I don’t care what you do, as long as you don’t distract me. Midterms are next week.” You slide out of bed and grab the shirt from where it had landed across the room.

Peter wraps your blanket around his waist and follows you. “Distract you?” He holds a hand against his wounded heart. “Babe, I would never.”

You cross your arms over your chest and face him. “Peter…”

“I’ll be good. I promise.” He kisses your lips quickly. “C’mon we gotta shower. Can’t be late, I want good seats.” Peter brushes past you and all but runs to the bathroom.

You roll your eyes and follow him. “If you leave me for Richards, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Ah I’d never leave you, baby.” He drops the blanket and climbs into the shower. “Richards is just a fling, you have my heart.”

You stand in front of him, letting the hot water run down your back. “As long as that’s where I stand.”

Peter wraps his arms around your shoulders. “Always and forever, honey.” He kisses your forehead. “Always and forever.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #peter parker fanfic #tasm!peter parker #tasm #the amazing spider man #orion writes

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miekasa · 3 years

Note

Mie, I’m begging for some Jean college au bf hcs - im literally so down bad for this man and the way you write men is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Absolutely, not a problem 😌 I saved this ask as a draft a while ago when you sent it, sorry for just now getting to it. Anyway, I love Jean with my whole heart, best boy, best boyfriend <33

King of forehead kisses, and not even just because of his height in comparison to yours; he just likes it. He likes the feeling of pressing his lips against your skin, and making you feel safe.

Brings you tea or coffee however you like it every day without fail. If he can get it to you in the morning before work/school then he’ll do that, if not he’ll meet you some time in the middle of the day to drop it off. Your own personal courier just for drinks.

He… has a thing for long(er) nails. He loves the feeling of them against his skin, even if you’re not scratching to apply pressure—just you holding his hand them grazing his skin is enough for him.

That being said, he will pay for you to get your nails done. Actually, he’ll pay for… almost anything you want, but the nails benefit him as much as they do you so feel free to ball out.

He never blowdries his hair because he doesn’t... know how to do the back of it. You did it for him once and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, but he’s also too embarrassed to ask you to do/style it again.

On the subject of hair, he does do his best to style it and take care of it, but he’s a sucker whenever you play with it. Sometimes he feigns like you’re messing up all his hard work, but he’ll literally crane his head into your touch. He loves it.

The first time he lays on top of you and you run your hands through his hair... top 10 most euphoric moments of his life. He tries to fight off the sleep threatening to take over him, but it’s futile. Give it 15 minutes at most before he’s knocked out like a baby.

Dogs love him. Anytime you’re in a park or just taking a walk and there’s a dog around, it’ll come up to him and he looks adorable leaning down to pet it. He loves dogs, too! So he’s always happy to stop and pet them. He’d be a 10/10 dog dad.

Has your name saved in his phone with two hearts at the end. Do not point it out.

Loves taking pictures together and if you guys are on a date, he’ll ask someone to get a picture for him. He just likes having them to look back on (and to send to his mom, later).

He doesn’t mind painting classes or videos or tutorials, but he hates paint by numbers kits. He claims that they have no sense of color theory and that it takes the originality and fun out of painting. Not to mention the quality of the paints isn’t great to begin with; all of which he takes very seriously.

It’s pretty cute actually, to see him get worked up over the paint kits. He claims that painting and drawing isn’t even something he takes “that seriously,” it’s just a hobby for him (one he’s insanely good at); but in moments like these, you can tell that he’s way more into art and art theory and history than he lets on.

Huge movie guy, from animated movies to martial arts movies, Jean is usually willingly to give anything a watch at least once. When he’s high, he can go on about his favorite directors and art styles and movie details for hours if you don’t stop him. It’s super cute. Just don’t bring up Moana, because he’ll start crying.

Arm around the shoulder kind of boyfriend for sure. It’s a casual way of keeping you near him and letting everyone know that you guys are together. Plus it allows for him to easily pull you into him for a quick forehead kiss when needed.

Listen. If you hug his arm, he’s on cloud nine. He tries to be nonchalant about it but he’s about three seconds away from his eyes rolling back in his head it feels that good to him. Bonus if you lean your head on his bicep a little—then he’s a goner.

He takes his bagels very seriously and believes that both you and him deserve nothing but the best quality bagels. He’ll grumble if a bakery gives you guys a less than favorable one and make a note that taking the long route to get to his favorite place is much more worth it.

Always makes you walk on the side furthest from the cars. If he notices you’re not, he’ll just shuffle behind you until he’s shouldering the street and you’re on the inside.

He grew up on a kind of modern ranch situation; not exactly all the way in the countryside, but not isolate from the city, either. Because of this, he knows how to ride horses, take care of smaller farm animals, tend to plants, and yes he knows how to use a lasso. You wouldn’t know any of that though, because he never ever talks about it. The only way you find out is when he takes you to visit his mom’s house for the first time, and she asks him for a hand around the place.

(He’s got a cowboy hat, too, but refuses to put it on. He got it when he was, like, nine, okay, leave him alone).

When he thinks you look tired, he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders to hug you. It’s usually followed up with a kiss to your head, and a promise that you guys will go home soon and get food on the way.

He’s a really good cook. He just understands and flavors and pairings really well, so he doesn’t need a recipe to make something that tastes good; he just kind of knows what to add to get the balance he’s looking for.

Naturally, he’ll cook for you. Especially if he finds out that you haven’t eaten all day/in a long time. He doesn’t care if it’s 11pm and it might seem excessive to make steak and potatoes with a side salad at this hour, he’s gonna do it to make sure you eat, and you are going to sit there and watch.

He also bakes pretty well, though he isn’t as experimental with his baking as he is with his cooking. He usually sticks to what he knows, and it’s not cupcakes and brownies and cakes; he’s better at croissants, and cheesecakes, and canelés.

Dating Jean means getting along with his friends. If you guys didn’t know each other before you started dating, be prepared to be ambushed by Connie and Sasha (after Jean stops hiding you away and gives them the green light lmfao). Neither of them waste time with the small talk and formalities; straight into mini golfing and beer pong. They make you feel welcome right away.

Sasha always teases that you’re too good for Jean, and that she might just steal you away for herself some day. Sasha is also Jean’s main confidant, so she really knows just how much he loves you, and yeah, she teases him for being lovesick, but really she’s happy for Jean. And proud of him for facing his feelings like this.

Connie adores you, and you know he trusts you when he starts going to you for advice/help. Could be anything from schoolwork, to what color he should get his new shoes in. He’s also the one who, surprisingly, you have the sentimental talks with about your relationship with Jean. It’s easy to overlook, but Connie loves Jean, and he’s come to love you too; he just wants you both to be happy, so he’s there to listen when you need it.

Jean waits outside of your classroom after you’ve had a test or presentation, usually with a drink or a snack, or the promise of taking you out as a treat. Always tells you he’s proud of you, and is there to comfort you if you think you didn’t do too well.

He does not shut up about whatever major you’re in. It could be the same as his; it could be the complete opposite as his. He thinks it’s so sick that you’re doing it, you make it look cooler, you make it look better, and he’s certain you’re the smartest person in your program.

He’s pretty serious about his studies, too, so he’s always down to study with you in the library whenever you’re both free. More often than not, he shows up after you, usually with food or extra chargers. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead, and asks you how you are while massaging your shoulders gently. If it’s been a while since you took a break, that’s the first item on the list, after that, he gets to work and stays with you until you’re ready to go, even if he doesn’t have as much work to do.

He always sits across from you. This goes for when you’re in the library, or out to eat at a restaurant; Jean loves sitting across from you. He gets to see your face the best that way, and he adores looking into your eyes when you talk.

He’s not... not a morning person. He’s not up at 6am ready to grind, but he wakes up before noon; let’s say 10am is his happy medium. That being said, if you wake up before him, regardless of the time, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll lay on your back and tell you to hush so you guys can sleep for 10 more minutes.

If you’re (close) friends with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, Jean is... happy you’ve got people to rely on, but, “Of all people on the planet, you put your trust in Jaeger?” He acts so bitter (because he is), but deep down inside, he’s glad you have Eren to rely on if you need to.

(Also, you have to humble him and remind him that he and Eren aren’t all that different. If you like him, why wouldn’t you get along with Eren, bye).

Turns out though, that it’s not Eren who threatens to beat him up if he breaks your heart. It’s not even Mikasa, although, her threat goes without saying; it’s Armin he’s terrified of.

The last time Armin hated someone, it was this guy in your program, who happened to share a few mutual classes with him, too. Jean never knew the full story, just that he’s pretty sure that kid dropped out the following semester.

If you have a job on campus, Jean usually doesn’t show up while you’re working (knowing how embarrassed he would be if you did that to him), unless you work the night shift and it’s dead. Connie, however, does show up; usually in some kind of crisis (“Please help me, I don’t know what the fuck APA formatting is and this is due tonight, please, please, please!!”). Your coworkers actually thought Connie was your boyfriend for a minute. That’s when Jean starts showing up more lmfao.

He makes it a point to go on a scheduled, night out, kind of date at least twice a month. He knows life gets busy with school and work and midterms, but he always makes sure you both set side a time to take a well-deserved break and be with each other.

He’s the romantic type, so these dates are pretty swoon worthy, too. Drive-in movies, nice dinners, classy art exhibits, Jean plans it all. On that note, he really likes planning dates; he just doesn’t like talking about them with his friends beforehand.

All in all, very romantic, very precious boyfriend. He’s always thinking about you, what you need, and how he can help you out. You’re one of his main priorities, and he just wants to treat you right.

#anonymous #when.... when.... WHEN IS IT MY TURN #aot x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot imagines #no because he's the love of my whole life #jean fluff #jean smut #eren x reader

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hotch-stufff · 3 years

Text

Surprise, Surprise

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!reader

Warnings!: there are no warnings, im not telling you a single thing. It's a surprise. Just read and find out ;)

Also, as much as I love him, Jack does not exist in this story, wasn't really sure how to write him in.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry that I haven't written in a while, I have had no inspiration and my bf dumped me so... ya'know that was nice. Anyways, finally getting some inspo, hopefully I will be writing more. Hope you guys enjoy this one :) Also, the mood board is mine, but the images are all from pintrest.

Word count: 1.4 k words

This is an emotional roller coaster

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

You couldn't breathe.

You couldn't move, or speak.

Your knees gave out as you fell to the floor, sobs racking your body.

You felt arms wrap around you, but it didn't help. You were suffocating. He was your air, and he had just been ripped from your lungs.

He was gone, dead.

Your husband.

The love of your life.

Aaron Hotchner was dead

* * *

You don't remember anything after the doctor uttered those words. You don't remember Rossi picking you up and holding you. You don't remember the sad glances, the tears shed by your teammates. You don't remember the car ride to your now empty shared apartment. You don't remember lying down and sobbing into the pillow for hours.

No, you only remember the pain. The unbearable pain of loss.

He was gone. Really gone.

You cried and cried for hours on end. Until you had no tears left to shed.

Then you just lied there, staring at the wall, gripping his favorite shirt in your arms, remembering every little moment with him.

And it hurt like hell just thinking of everything you did with him. The day you met. Your first kiss, your first date. The day he proposed. Your wedding. Every little thing.

And you wouldn't be able to do anything else. You wouldn't have kids with him. You guys had just talked about having a baby just the other day. He wanted one so bad.

You shouldn't have waited.

Because now, now he was gone.

* * *

The next few days were a blur. You found yourself with home-cooked meals overflowing your fridge. A team member at your house every night. But it was all a blur.

All meaningless without Aaron.

The funeral was coming up. You didn't make any arrangements, you asked Rossi if he could handle it and he quickly agreed.

He had taken care of finding the casket, picking a place, and finding a burial site. Everything.

The only thing you had asked for was a closed casket.

You couldn't handle looking at him.

* * *

On the day of the funeral, the girls all came over to help you get ready.

"Alright y/n, do you have a dress?" Penny asked as she walked out of kitchen.

"In the closet." You croaked. Your voice being hoarse from the crying and lack of speaking for the past two weeks.

"Okay I'll grab that, and shoes. Jj is going to make you breakfast and Em is going to do your hair okay?" You gave her a sad smile and a small okay.

Penny quickly walked back your hallway as Em began pulling your hair back in a low ponytail. You felt the tears begin slipping down your face once again.

Jj saw as she walked back in the room with a bagel and coffee.

"Oh sweetheart." And the dam broke. They comforted you the best they could. But they couldn't even imagine what you were going through, because he was gone.

* * *

The funeral was a blur. It seemed like everything was these days.

It was a beautiful service. You don't remember much. Lots of hugs and 'sorry for your loss's.

It had gone quickly, and soon you found yourself in Rossi's living room. Everyone but the team had left, you sat alone. The rest were in the kitchen cleaning up.

You didn't move from your spot, sipping your wine.

Everyone walked in, and found spots around you.

It was silent. Not a single word was spoken.

"I'm taking a leave of absence." You spoke.

6 pairs of eyes shot to you, but they couldn't say they were surprised.

"It's just too much. I'm not ready to come back." Your voice was quiet. Rossi was the first to say anything.

"Take all the time you need."

* * *

And you did. You spent about 3 months in that apartment, alone and sad and heartbroken.

But you realized that Aaron would never want you to live like this. And you really needed to be able to pay the bills.

So after those 3 months, you gave Rossi a call. He had become until chief since you had left, and he instantly accepted you back to the team.

You were slowly getting better.

Each passing case a distraction.

Each one fixing you just a bit more.

Each one giving your life a purpose, a meaning again.

And you felt better. You stopped crying yourself to sleep. You stopped sitting in silence for hours on end. You stopped crying every time you thought about him.

But you still visited him every week. You still thought about him everyday. You still wore your wedding rings, refusing to take them off.

But you were better.

* * *

A few more months went by and you started going out with the team again. You spent more time with them. Almost every weekend. And you were somewhat okay.

And it wasn't until about 8 months after his death did your world come to another crashing halt.

You had been called in to the BAU, not entirely sure why, but you came in none the less.

You figured it was a case, but Jj hadn't specified on the phone, which was strange.

You had walked up to the conference room, and were surprised to see the whole team sitting there ready to go.

"Hey guys, do we have a case?" You asked, but Jj sent you a sad look causing you to grow worried.

"Y/n, you should sit down for this." You had no idea what was going on. What on earth was happening. "Peter Raymond recently resurfaced, and was taken into custody this morning about an hour ago. He resisted arrest and pulled a gun on an officer. He was shot and killed." Your heart hammered in your chest. He was gone. The bastard who killed your husband was gone. Rossi stood walking towards Jj.

A pit grew in your stomach, there was more, something you didn't know.

"8 months ago I made a decision that greatly affected this team. Aaron Hotchner received substantial injuries from the wounds he endured, but his surgery was a success and he was airlifted to an unknown location. His identity was changed in order to keep him safe. But he is alive."

You couldn't believe your ears. He was alive. Alive?

Your eyes shot to the door and there he stood.

Aaron Hotchner.

You couldn't breathe.

You couldn't move or speak.

He was alive, you should be ecstatic.

But you only felt anger.

Your eyes shot to Rossi.

"How dare you." You whispered out, surprising the team. You weren't an angry person, you never yelled at your teammates. But you, you were seething. "How could you do that. You knew he was alive and yet you let me suffer. You watched as I cried day and night. You watched as I let myself go, as I lost myself." You shook your head in anger.

Aaron stepped forward reaching out for you, but you shook your head.

"Dont touch me. Don't fucking touch me." You felt the tears fall down your face. Again. "You left me. You're dead. You're gone. Y-you left." You were shaking and crying and once again Aaron reached out for you, but this time you let him.

He brought you into a crushing hug, holding you like you had begged to be held for months.

He was here, really here. You could smell and feel and see him. He was really here.

"Y-you bastard. You left me." You whispered desperately as you cried into his shirt.

The team was quick to disperse. They too were mad at Rossi, and they wanted to reunite with Hotch. But they left you be, at least for now.

Aaron pulled back slightly, looking down at you.

"Sweetheart I'm so sorry. I wish I didn't have to. But he would have killed you and then he would have killed me." He had tears running down his face as well now. But you were so angry at him.

You pushed him away.

"I could have gone with you Aaron. You could have gone into witsec. You didn't need to fake your fucking death Aaron!" You yelled at him. you couldn't even believe you were eating this conversation.

"Y/n please, I'm so sorry." You were mad yeah, but you were so overwhelmingly relieved that it overpowered your anger. "I missed you sweetheart." He whispered out and you broke just a little bit more.

"You bastard. Y-you stupid man." You pulled him back to you and slammed your lips together. "You stupid, stupid man." You gasped out between kisses.

"I know, I'm so sorry. I love you." He stated after you pulled away.

"I-I love you too." You were sobbing at this point.. "Don't ever do that to me again." He nodded, leaning in to kiss you again.

And you kissed your husband.

Because he wasn't gone.

He was right here.

And god did it feel amazing to have him back

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

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! Currently I'm only taking requests from my prompt list, which is right here! School is starting up soon though, so i may not be writing very often, but i will definitely try! Anyways, if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#aaron hotchner x reader #imagine #angst #fluff #reader insert #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch imagine

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poisonedapples · 3 years

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter 2

Craft Projects and Failed Bonding

Chapter Summary: Roman plots against Patton in a way he thinks is threatening.

Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Panic, anxiety, implied past abuse, food mentions, and anxiety over being watched by cameras.

Word Count: 4,533

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22

Notes: Thanks to cornybird on Ao3 for helping me beta this one!

“Virgil, wake up, it’s time for breakfast!”

Roman cracked open his eyes to stare at the door. His security bar was still under the doorknob, and it sounded like Patton walked away to knock on the next kid's door, so Roman slowly lifted himself out of Virgil’s bed once the coast was clear. He hadn’t been asleep for the last two hours, so there was no point to continue lying down and risk Patton trying to get into the room to wake him up. So Roman rubbed his tired eyes to undo the security bar and put it in his backpack.

Though, speaking of his backpack…he had no idea where to put it. It wasn’t safe in Virgil’s room, but Virgil was still sleeping in Roman’s bedroom. He could take it downstairs with him, but that’s a strange thing to do during breakfast, and he didn’t want that to be the conversation opener of the day. Especially if they asked him what was inside. They weren’t allowed to know that.

Eventually, Roman settled on hiding the backpack underneath Virgil’s bed. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, but it’d work until Roman could come back and take it. He opened the door and headed downstairs, praying that he wouldn’t be the first kid to arrive.

The prayer wasn’t enough, because Roman looked around the kitchen and only saw Patton at the stove. Patton looked over at him and seemed confused, trying to hide it behind a chipper smile. “Morning, kiddo! How’d you get dressed so fast? I only knocked on your door a second ago!”

Don’t let him find out you weren’t in your room. “Oh, these are my pajamas, I haven’t gotten dressed yet. And I was already awake, so I just came right downstairs.”

Patton looked Roman up and down, and Roman shivered. “…Do you not have real pajamas, kiddo?”

“No. I like sweatpants better.”

Patton didn’t seem pleased, but he didn’t question it further. Roman sat down at the table and anxiously drummed his fingers while he waited. Eventually, Logan came downstairs fully dressed with his hair brushed, and Virgil followed not long after. His hair was a mess, and his pajamas were twisted like he just fell out of bed and rolled down the stairs to make it in time.

Patton took one look at him and almost gasped. “Virgil, did you sleep last night? You look…a bit rough, to put it lightly.”

Virgil grunted. “I had to clean.”

Patton sighed. “Kiddo, save cleaning for the morning, okay?”

Virgil shrugged, groggily making his way to the coffee machine to try and steal some Patton already made for himself. “Virgil,” Patton chastised, “No coffee. You can go back to sleep after breakfast if you want, but you’re too young for coffee.”

Logan raised his hand. “May I have some?”

“No.”

“Darn.”

“What kinda drink do you want, Roman?” Patton asked. “And don’t say coffee.”

Coffee sounded really nice, actually, but there was no use arguing. “I’ll take milk, then.”

Patton finished emptying the contents of his pan onto some plates before grabbing three cups from the cupboard and filling them up. Two had milk while one had orange juice, and he passed them to each seat at the table. He then passed everybody their plates, with scrambled eggs and a bagel with cream cheese. Roman took his fork and tasted a bite of the eggs.

Holy fuck, Roman hadn’t had something that tasty since his grandma last cooked for him. The eggs were so soft and cheesy, and Roman could barely contain his excitement for it. He put as many eggs as he could fit onto his fork and stuffed it all in his mouth.

Patton laughed when he noticed Roman’s reaction. “Taste good, kiddo?”

Roman hummed, and Patton smiled. “Good! I learned how to make them from my roommate in college, and I haven’t looked back since!”

Roman hoped that roommate taught him how to make a lot more things then, because this was heavenly. He’d finished his entire plate of eggs so fast it was concerning, forgetting all ability to savor his food. Maybe Roman could find the recipe and steal it when Patton wasn’t looking.

Until then, Roman moved on to eating his bagel while everyone else wasn’t even close to finishing breakfast. He guessed that was a good thing. If he finished before everyone else, he could run to Virgil’s room and grab his backpack without anyone noticing. Roman chewed faster at the possibility.

Once again, the table went very silent as everyone ate and Roman tried to make a swift escape. Patton was the one to break the silence this time. “So, Roman,” he said, “How about you and I go to the store today?”

Roman froze. “…Why?”

“I’m sure there’s some stuff you need. School starts again in two days, so we need to get you some school supplies, and maybe we can get some stuff to decorate your room with too!”

“Wait, school starts in two days? I thought it started in two weeks!”

Patton seemed apologetic. “In this district, the first day is this Wednesday. Usually I’d let you stay at home a little longer to get comfortable before school, but I think it’d be easier for you to start the first day when you have the chance. Besides, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you home alone for another week.”

You should leave me here alone, Roman thought. He was a little disappointed he had to go to school sooner than usual, but school was also the best excuse to leave home early and come back late. If he could get involved again in theater, he could hide out and blame his late return times on rehearsals. So maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

Patton interrupted Roman’s internal scheming. “Do you know what kinda supplies you might need, kiddo?”

Roman twirled his cup in his hand and watched the milk spin. “Binders, pencils, folders, notebooks…I only have a backpack, really.”

“We definitely need to stop by the store then! And while we’re there, we can look at all the bedroom stuff too!”

Everything in Roman made him want to decline, to tell Patton to buy him whatever and he’ll make do with what he has. His heart started to pound again, his hand gripping hard on his cup and thinking about his escape options. Then it dawned on him.

They would be going to a store. A store, full of cashiers and moms with kids and plenty of parents who might also need school supplies. If there was anywhere he could be safe while alone with Patton, it was there. And maybe if he agreed, Patton would leave him alone for a while…

“…We can go.” Roman said. Patton’s grin widened and his eyes lit up.

“Great! So, just get ready once you finish breakfast, and we can head out! Logan, you’ll be in charge while Virgil takes a nap.”

Logan nodded, and Virgil almost fell asleep on top of his plate.

Eventually, everyone finished breakfast and put their dishes away, Virgil dragging himself back upstairs and falling into bed without even closing his door. Roman carefully entered his bedroom, darting his eyes between where he hid his backpack and where Virgil was lying.

“What.” Virgil snapped, mumbling it into his pillow. Roman stopped in his tracks.

“I only need to grab my bag, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fuggin’ take it.” Virgil snapped.

Roman grabbed his backpack and scurried out of there, closing the door behind him. It uneased Roman to try to sleep with the door open, so he assumed someone as secluded as Virgil might be the same. It was a little way to show his gratitude for last night.

Roman walked back to his own bedroom after grabbing his backpack. However, once Roman opened the door, he finally understood what Virgil meant by “cleaning”.

The mess Roman made last night was completely gone. The bed was made, the hangers were placed back in the closet, the lightbulb was back in the lamp and the nightstand had been set back up. It was almost like last night was a bad dream that never happened, Roman’s only evidence that it had being the fact that he woke up in Virgil’s room that morning. He looked around the room again to process the change, when he noticed a piece of paper on the nightstand.

Roman picked up the piece of paper and unraveled it.

There’s no cameras in here, I checked. I also fixed your mental breakdown for you. You owe me one.

Virgil

Roman looked around the room, holding the paper tight to his chest as he examined every corner. There wasn’t a single camera in here? Not one? No, no that wasn’t possible. The camera was around here somewhere. Roman knew it.

He looked around again, three times, looking under objects and in the closet, feeling the pit in his stomach grow when all his searches came back futile. He knew it was here somewhere, and he refused to let Patton win. Roman would find it.

He’d just…have to find some other place to sleep until then.

Roman shook his head as a way to erase his thoughts. He could worry about the camera later, but for now, he needed to please Patton’s attempt at getting to know him and get out of this cursed room. Roman still wrapped a blanket around himself as he got dressed, not quite able to shake his anxiety long enough to not take precautions. He changed from his pajamas to a red shirt and baggy jeans, and ran out to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Camera or not, he’d have to find a way to pay Virgil back.

***

“Roman, what’s your favorite color?”

Roman snapped out of his distant stare to look at Patton. He was looking at a display of school binders, pausing for a moment to glance at Roman and wait for an answer. The stare was so much for Roman to process that he took a step back. “Uh…red.”

“Perfect! They’ve got lots of reds!” Patton grabbed a red binder before stopping himself with a thinking expression on his face. “Though, wait, let me check the supplies website…I don’t wanna get a wrong size, or only get one when you need multiple…”

Roman went back to staring at the floor under him. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. It seemed like a great idea at first, but now Roman was here holding himself tight and trying not to cry, feeling the exhaustion set in while his anxiety made him restless. He wanted to go home and sleep, but there was nowhere to sleep. Nowhere to hide.

He’d have to search the house for hiding spots later.

“So,” Patton eventually said, “It doesn’t say exactly, so I’ll just grab a zipper binder and one two inch just in case. If you need more, I can always stop by again and buy some. What’s your second favorite color?”

Roman swallowed to fight back the tears. “Purple.”

Patton smiled. “That’s Virgil’s favorite color! So, one red zipper binder and a purple two inch. So let’s look at the pencil cases now!” Patton caught a glimpse of Roman’s pale face and his smile dropped. “…Are you okay, kiddo?”

Roman nodded. He didn’t trust himself to talk, but it seemed like Patton didn’t trust his answer. He took a step toward Roman, and Roman took two steps back. Patton frowned. “Are you sure?”

Roman nodded again. Patton ran a hand through his hair and looked around the store. Please, let’s just get this over with already.

Patton’s head stopped as his eye caught sight of a specific aisle, and he smiled in Roman’s direction. “Say, kiddo, how about you go check out the fish? I’ll be over here getting the boring stuff if you need me!”

Roman glanced at Patton’s eyes. They were soft and forgiving, but all Roman could feel when looking at them was fear. He took this as his moment, spinning around on his heel and almost sprinting toward the fish aisle. Anywhere was better than being near Patton.

Roman looked at the walls of fish tanks with fish of all kinds of colors, watching them swim around as the filter’s bubbles reached the roof. There were some that were swimming around each other, and others that stopped in place for long periods of time. Roman held himself and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

It was more peaceful away from Patton, at least. Roman felt a little less sick and his hands weren’t shaking as badly, focusing on the fish to calm himself down. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it worked. That’s all Roman could really ask for.

He watched the fish swim around and read their species facts for a while, until he couldn’t feel tears in his eyes anymore and the nausea was tamed. Roman walked through the aisle to look at the fish tank decorations and other pet toys. He picked up a chew toy for a dog and squeaked it, awkwardly messing with the toys and trying to keep Patton in his peripheral vision. It felt odd to be standing around in a pet aisle with no plans of buying anything.

Well, Roman thought, Patton never told me I had to stay in this aisle. It was only a suggestion. I could move on to another part of the store.

Roman looked at where Patton was one more time so he could remember his spot. It seemed like he was checking the supply list on his phone and thinking hard about colored pencils, and Roman hoped he would be occupied with that for a while more. He walked out of the aisle and looked above him for ideas on where he should go next.

Bathroom, no. The bakery would be wonderful if I could buy a donut myself. Clothes, baby items, plants…wait! Roman’s eyes lit up as he read another one of the signs. Hardware!

Roman always loved searching through hardware. He was a craft person at heart, and the aisles always gave him ideas for new things to try and make. Besides, Patton told him they were going to look for decorations for his room, maybe he could get inspiration there!

Roman entered the hardware aisle and began to look around. Because this wasn’t a hardware store there wasn’t much, mostly small items like door hinges and hook sets. There was also a doorknob you could only open with a code that Roman wanted, but there was no way Patton would let him install that. But maybe he could find something else to make his room safer.

Roman passed some other items, including some lightbulbs and a security camera displaying the screen that made Roman shiver when he passed by, but eventually Roman saw it. Ideas swarmed in his head and a big grin bloomed onto his face. It was perfect!

“There you are, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the sound of Patton approaching, looking up to see him with a basket full of school supplies. Patton smiled to hide the worry in his eyes. “I noticed you left the other aisle and I didn’t know where to find you.”

Roman gripped harder onto the box he was holding. “Sorry, I got bored…but I found something I want for my room!”

“You did? What is it, kiddo?”

Roman held up the box to Patton. Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “…Curtain rods?”

“Yes! Sounds strange, I know, but I was thinking that I could make my own canopy bed with them! We could get some curtains and I could hang them up around the bed, and I could decorate the curtains to look beautiful! Please?”

Patton rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t know, kiddo…it sounds like a cool project! But you’d have to install them into the roof, and I’m not very good with a drill!”

“I can do it!” Roman begged, “I’ve installed lots of home stuff before, and I’m really good with tools! And if I mess up I promise I’ll fix any holes, or I’ll do some babysitting jobs to pay back anything that’s broken, just…please? Can I try?”

Patton seemed conflicted. He saw the desperate look in Roman’s eyes and sighed. “…You can try, kiddo. Just…don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work, okay?”

“I won’t be! Promise!” Roman grabbed three boxes of the largest curtain rods they had and tried to hold them under his arms. “Now, I just need some red curtains, and maybe some glittery star stickers, or some other craft supplies! And a hot glue gun, you can make beautiful raindrop decorations out of hot glue!”

Patton seemed like his head was spinning. “I’ll go get an actual cart for this, kiddo.”

And then, the hunt for supplies was on. Patton got a cart for Roman to pile the curtain rods on the bottom, failing to keep up with him as he ran from aisle to aisle searching for supplies for his ideas. All the curtains were too transparent for Roman’s liking, so he instead settled for a pack of red, flat sheets meant for a queen bed and a small pack of sewing supplies. Patton mentioned he had a glue gun at home, so Roman skipped that section of the crafts aisle and instead focused on some birthday decorations with crowns and stars as well as some stickers. The more Roman’s vision came into action, the more excited and bouncy he got.

With the opaque curtains, Roman thought, it doesn’t matter if he has a camera in my room or not. He won’t be able to see me sleep. And how cute, he won’t realize his mistake in letting me do this until it’s too late.

Roman was jumping on his heels at the thought. I’m a genius.

The checkout was long and the car ride was full of anticipation, but once Patton pulled into the driveway of the house, Roman opened the trunk and ran inside with all his items in tow. He didn’t even say hello as he ran past Virgil and Logan on the couch to head upstairs.

“Kiddo, do you want to organize supplies too?” Patton yelled once he entered the house.

“I will later!” Roman answered. He had work to do.

The first step was an experiment of patience. Roman took out all the flat sheets and folded them at the top, sewing the fold with a needle and red thread to make its own custom loop for the curtain rod. It was annoying and tedious, but necessary. Also a test on Roman’s skill of how fast he could hand sew.

He was almost done with the last sheet when a knock came to his door. “Who is it?” Roman asked.

“It’s lunch time, kiddo,” Patton answered, “I called you down a while ago. How about you take a break for some food?”

No. There was no time for breaks. Roman needed this to be done by tonight so he could finally get some sleep. “In a minute.”

“Roman, it’s been a while already. A little break won’t hurt.”

“I will in a minute!” It was a lie, but Roman had the door locked, so there was nothing Patton could do about it. Roman finished his final seam, so now it was onto installing the rods.

Roman was measuring where to put the hooks on the roof when another knock came to the door. Roman groaned like a spoiled brat. “I’m coming!”

“Roman, can you open the door?”

Roman froze. He just yelled at Patton, pushed his luck, now he had to open the door. Roman dropped the screw he was holding as his hands shaked. Shit, shit! “…Why?”

“I’ve got your lunch for you.”

Roman felt his throat close, but ignoring Patton would only make the situation worse. Roman dropped his hook and screws to open the door.

Patton was on the other side, smiling softly with a burrito on a plate and a glass of juice in his hands. “I had to reheat it, but maybe you can eat while you’re working.”

Roman dug his nails into his palm before taking the plate. “Thank you.”

“Can I come in?”

No. No, you can’t. You never can, ever. “…Sure.”

Roman scurried away from Patton to sit on his bed, drinking some of the juice and looking at what’s inside the burrito. Black beans, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, sour cream, onions, and green peppers. Roman took a bite and tried to calm himself by focusing on the taste.

“You like it?”

Roman nodded. “Never had this before.”

“It’s a black bean burrito. I found the recipe a few years ago, and I make them pretty often. Especially for growing kiddos.” Patton sat on the floor next to the mess Roman had laid out. “What are you doing now for your canopy bed?”

“I was gonna screw in the curtain hooks to the roof. I’ve just been sewing the sheets for now, which is the hardest part. I might have to sew them again though, since the sheets are so big I might have to cut them. Especially since I want to do two curtains on each end to make it look pretty.”

“Sounds cool! Do you need any help?”

Roman seemed to be thinking. Maybe if I satisfy him, he won’t be angry. “Do you know how to sew?”

“I know how to repair tears. That’s it.”

Roman took another bite of his burrito and jumped off the bed, picking up one of the sheets to examine the size. He jumped on his bed and held it up to the roof, seeing how far it would stretch. The sheet was much longer than his bed, so it would be perfect. “Take the sheets, measure them, and cut them in half right down the middle. Then I can show you how to do a catch stitch to hem the seam. That will save me some time.”

“You’re very good at hand stuff!” Patton complimented. A shiver went up Roman’s spine.

“…Yes.”

From then on, the environment was very tense. The only sound between either of them was the drill going through the roof and the sound of scissors cutting. When Patton finished cutting, Roman showed him how to hem the seam, but it was quiet again after that. Roman kept his distance and made sure his front was always facing Patton just in case.

“I hope you don’t mind if this is a very messy sewing job, kiddo.” Patton joked.

Roman shrugged. “You won’t be able to see it anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you gonna decorate the sheets once you’ve hung them up?”

“Yes, it’s easier that way. And I can plan it out.”

“Any reason why you chose crowns and stars?”

Roman paused long enough to drill another hook into the roof before setting the drill down to grab another hook. “I like crowns. And stars.”

“Logan loves stars.” Patton really hated silence, apparently. “I don’t know if the other kiddos showed you their rooms, but Logan’s is covered in space stuff. It was really fun to do, actually! Though, I made Logan paint the stars onto his own wall because he kept talking about how it should be accurate constellations, and I don’t know anything about stuff like that.”

“I’ve only seen Virgil’s room.”

“Oh, well, if Logan ever invites you in, know that he did lots of work for his constellation wall!”

Roman hummed and drilled the last hook into the roof. He took a curtain rod and placed it on the two hooks near the foot of his bed. “How many of the sheets have you finished?”

“Oh, I’m still on the first one. I’m learning though!”

Roman jumped off the bed to sit on the floor next to Patton, grabbing his own needle and thread to begin hemming the seam. Once he started sewing, Patton watched him with wide eyes. “You’re doing that very fast, kiddo!”

Roman shrugged. “I’ve done it a lot.”

“What do you usually sew for?”

“Clothes. To fix rips, mostly. My mom also taught me when I was younger.”

Patton seemed taken aback by his explanation. “Did…did you enjoy that time with your mom?”

“I enjoyed all my time with her.” Roman paused. “Well. Most times.”

Patton swallowed. “Most times?”

“Her and I were really close, if that’s what you're asking.” Roman’s hands sped up as he sewed. “She would take me to movies and theaters, and she taught me how to bake as good as her.”

Patton’s voice grew serious. “Well…I’m sorry for your loss, kiddo.”

“She’s not dead.”

“I’m still sorry you lost her.” Patton shook his head and focused more intently on his sewing. “But you said you can bake?”

Roman nodded. “I bake a lot, especially cake. I know how to make red velvet cake from scratch and it is lovely.”

“We should make some tomorrow, then!”

Roman tensed. “Maybe.”

Roman finished off the hem of his side and moved to cut another sheet, hemming both of their sides once he did so. The rest of the time was quiet, with Roman purposely refusing to spark conversation and Patton processing the little information Roman gave him. By the time Patton finished one end and half of another, Roman had finished all the rest and took Patton’s to quickly finish off. Roman laid them all across the floor and opened the packs of crafts he got.

“Well, kiddo, I gotta see about making dinner now.” Patton eventually said, “Tell me how the end project turns out, ‘kay?”

Roman nodded. Finally, he’s leaving. “Close the door when you leave.”

Patton smiled and closed the door on his way out. Roman focused entirely on decorating his new curtains, placing glittery stars and plastic crowns and using the hot glue gun to make crystals draping down the curtains. He repeated a similar pattern for each one, eventually hanging two on each side of the bed so they could open and close down the middle. Once the final project was finished, and the floor of his room was scattered in materials, Roman smiled wide in awe.

“Yes! I did it! I did it!” Roman jumped up and down from excitement, flopping onto his bed and closing the curtains from every side. The curtains were a bit too long and dragged too much along the floor, but he could fix that another day. For now, he’d been at it for hours, and his bed was finally a safe space.

Roman buried his face into his pillow, feeling himself relax as the exhaustion of a whole day with no sleep and debilitating anxiety finally caught up to him. He groggily checked for any cameras on the roof, but that was the only place he had to check for a camera that could see him. He was safe.

Roman crawled under the comforter and closed his eyes. It wasn’t more than five minutes of lying there before he fell asleep, curling into himself and relaxing. Finally, he slept peacefully.

Finally.

#ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #panic #implied past abuse #past abuse #food mention #royality #prinxiety #familial royality #familial prinxiety

175 notes · View notes

quillquiver · 3 years

Text

another chapter of this deancas wedding/honeymoon!fic. thank you @we-all-deserve-to-be-saved for the prompt!

Castiel is not a morning person.

He likes lying in bed until he’s sore with it, stretching out on the memory foam like a king languishing among his pillows. He likes rolling over onto on a cool patch of sheet, and cuddling into the covers, and hooking his toes over the end of the mattress. Castiel likes holding Dean. Being held by him; tucked up against his chest or with a palm half-sunk into his boxer-briefs. Pressing kisses to neck and shoulders and the line of his hair.

Castiel likes the liminal space he occupies in the moments between sleep and wakefulness, where everything glows. It’s warm and wonderful and he draws it out for as long as possible, the minutes dragging along by way of tender touches. It reminds him of the peaceful parts of angelhood.

So, Castiel is not a morning person.

…But he can become one, for Dean.

Dean likes romantic gestures; not all of them—he isn’t the type of man who likes receiving flowers or chocolates or candlelit dinners. But picking up his favourite beer when Cas notices they’re running low, or staying up late to watch a movie despite being exhausted—kissing him, washing his hair, holding his hand, sitting with him while he works on the Impala… wearing women’s lingerie: these are all things Dean appreciates. Small things. Quiet things.

Cas knows that this is a gamble.

The alarm on his phone barely has the opportunity to buzz before he’s turning it off, carefully sliding out from between the covers. It’s dim, and Cas allows himself a moment to run his hand through the mess of his hair and dig his toes into the soft carpet. A breeze is coming off the water.

God, he hates early mornings.

“Where you goin’?”

Dean’s voice is slurred and muffled. He blindly reaches out and Cas meets him halfway, tempted into cuddling for just a moment longer. “Go back to sleep, Dean,” he murmurs, gently brushing over the pillow lines on his cheek.

“Mmm, w’sss hap’nin?”

“Bathroom,” Cas supplies, depositing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Dean’s reciprocation lags with exhaustion.

Dean frowns. Struggles to open his eyes. “Y’okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cas says. “Go back to sleep.”

“’Kay,” Dean mumbles. “C’m back.”

Cas melts like fallen ice cream on hot concrete.

He carefully extracts himself from their bed, padding into the other room and closing the bedroom door. The sun is beginning to paint the first impressions of light on the horizon; the water is calm—it’s going to be a beautiful day.

Castiel calls for room service.

He orders pancakes and waffles and eggs and sausages, lox bagels, a bowl of fresh fruit, mimosas. An espresso and a latte because Dean would never ask for it himself. “And would you mind putting a rush on this?” he murmurs into the receiver. “I know it’s early, but we’re newlyweds and I’m trying to surprise my husband.”

Cas has learned that the newlywed excuse goes a long way anywhere, but works especially well when paying outrageous amounts of money in a fancy hotel. He expects they’ll also leave the champagne bottle.

Despite the fact that Cas is pretty sure it’s considered impolite to do so, he moves the small table and chairs from the balcony and makes a nest on the marble floor out of spare blankets and colourful pillows from the couch. He tries to mitigate the potential mess by laying down some of their many extra towels. Room service knocks, Cas pulls on a robe, and then the smell of coffee and food starts rousing Dean from bed. Cas pushes the food cart—complete with opened champagne bottle—to the door of the balcony before entering the bedroom.

Dean has kicked off all the covers and is sleeping on his stomach.

There is no moment of thinking about what he wants to do—what he’s allowed; Cas moves without conscious thought, peppering kisses from Dean’s ass all the way to the nape of his neck and then lavishing his attention on his particularly freckled shoulders. “Mmm… smells good.”

“Breakfast,” Cas says.

“S’early.”

“I want to take you on a date.”

Dean’s eyes flutter open. “Now?” he asks, caught between sleep and incredulity.

Cas leans over and presses a kiss to his mouth. “Mm.”

“Sweetheart…” He whines. Cas feels himself start to smile. Dean doesn’t use pet names often, and more recently he’s taken to doing so while complaining; as if the verbal confirmation of his affection will bend Cas to his will. It was laughable until it became endearing—because Cas is sweet on him, and there is no one else Dean feels comfortable whining to.

“Your life is one hardship after another,” he agrees solemnly. Cas slides back down Dean’s body and nips his left asscheck. “Come on. Up.”

“What, we’re not even gonna—”

“After breakfast, Dean. Just come. Please.”

Dean rolls his eyes and grumbles about a different kind of coming. “Man, s’not even light out yet.” As Cas moves to get Dean his robe, he’s caught around the waist and pulled between bowed legs. “C’mon,” Dean needles, nuzzling at him until the robe parts. “A little nookie, a couple more hours of sleep… we can go on a date later.”

“Or we can go on a date now.”

Dean pulls away and looks up at Cas, narrowing his eyes. Cas smiles down at him beatifically, running a hand through his hair and tracing the shell of his in the way he knows turns him to putty.

“…You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes.”

Dean continues to grumble to himself as he slides out of bed and towards his duffle, frowning when Cas catches his hand. “No need to get dressed.”

“But you said—”

Cas holds out his robe. “Follow me.”

Dean slips the thing on as they pad into the main room, his eyes immediately drawn to the food and coffee. He gives a low whistle. “Damn, Cas. We expecting company?”

And suddenly, the entire thing seems incredibly stupid. Cas dragged them both from the warmth and comfort of their marriage bed on their honeymoon to look at the sun rising, a thing that happens and has happened every single day since the Earth started turning. He did this knowing that neither of them get to sleep like this, or be alone like this, or touch like this—this much and this openly. He doesn’t even know if Dean likes sunrises; if this is one of those things that’s romantic in the wrong way.

“I know you like breakfast,” he says, instead of dragging Dean back to bed.

Dean eyes the set-up outside, turn around and… blushes. Is blushing, down his chest and all the way to the tips of his ears. “So this is, uh—you got up and did all this?”

Cas feels colour rise to his own cheeks. “I didn’t cook,” he says. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Dean echoes. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “So, uh, take me on a date, stud.” He looks nervous, Cas thinks, which is ridiculous and relatable all at once. Outside, the rising sun paints swathes of pink and orange across the horizon.

“…Right,” Cas says. “Yes. I will… do that.” He gestures to the balcony. “Please sit.”

They get settled with coffee, for the first time maintaining a respectful distance between them. It’s oddly hurtful, and the longer they remain apart the more awkward Cas feels. He’s practically shaking out of his own skin when he suggests they go back inside. “You’re tired,” he says. “We should just go back to sleep.”

“Wait, why?” Dean frowns. He has foam on his upper lip. Cas wants to kiss it away.

“You’re not having fun,” he continues. “And this was silly, anyway. We should just—”

“Who says I’m not having fun?”

“Dean—”

“C’mon, man, you gotta—” Dean cuts himself off. Shakes his head. “I’m not cut out for this stuff: dates, romance… you gotta know that by now. And I haven’t been with anyone long enough to, y’know, even get to the part where we’re mushy and shit. But… it’s not because I don’t want to. I mean, flowers and chocolate? Not my thing, but you know me, Cas. A-And we’re in love, right?”

Cas swallows thickly. He nods. “I’m in love with you.”

Dean’s huff of laughter is steeped in nerves. “Well, good,” he says. “’Cause I’m kinda crazy about you, too. So—so, why shouldn’t we have a sunrise picnic on the balcony at the fuckin’ Ritz?”

“We should, if you’re enjoying myself.”

“Hell yeah, I’m enjoying myself. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Drink your damn coffee.”

Cas stares at him for a moment before scooting closer. He wraps an arm around Dean and tugs, relaxing when over six feet of freckled hunter is suddenly plastered to his side. “Okay,” Cas breathes. “Good. This is good. I love you.”

“I love you, too, you loser.”

They come together more softly than usual, tentative in a way they haven’t been in a long time as they kiss. Eventually, Dean gets pulled onto Cas’s lap and shrugs out of the top of half of his robe. “Gonna need to work up an appetite to finish all that food,” he murmurs. He ducks down to suck and bite at the spot on Cas’s neck that makes him weak in the knees.

Cas snorts. “Very subtle.”

“So, uh…” Dean bounces his eyebrows like a lecherous old man.

Cas’s stomach growls. “Can we postpone the exhibitionism until after we eat?”

“There’s no one around!”

He’s smiley when Cas kisses him.

“What would you like for breakfast?” Dean opens his mouth and Cas rolls his eyes. “Besides me.”

“That’s mighty presumptuous of you, Castiel.”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I know you.”

“Yeah.”

It comes out much breathier than probably intended, and Cas can’t be expected not to kiss him. When they drift apart and Dean says, “Little bit of everything?” Cas gets up to make him a plate.

“Man,” Dean sighs, stretching out on the pillows. “This honeymoon thing is awesome.”

Cas hands him a plate piled high with bacon and eggs and pancakes and grins.

It really, truly is.

#we-all-deserve-to-be-saved #destiel wedding #destiel honeymoon #destiel fic #deancas fic #honeymoon!fic #adventures in fanfic

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tefilovesreading · 3 years

Text

Things I love about you (Charlie Gillespie x Reader)

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem!Reader

Word count:1,6k

Warning: Some swearing (not really), a little bit of French, mention of wine bc why not. Other than that is just fluff, like loads of it.

Edited by @theamazingtomholland

MASTERLIST

Charlie always thought people were crazy when they used to list things they loved about their partners, maybe because he never fell in love as hard as he did for the girl sleeping peacefully, tangled in the sheets, and wearing nothing but his t-shirt. He kissed her shoulder before leaving the room, ready for his morning run.

He knew very well she’d still be fast asleep once he came back with breakfast, even if that meant coming back in almost an hour. And Charlie was right. When he came back an hour later, with sweat glistening his skin and the bagels he bought for breakfast, his girlfriend was still sleeping, and he let out a chuckle when he saw the nest made of pillows she always made in her sleep whenever she was sleeping on her own.

That was one of the little things she did that he completely loved. It was as if she needed to feel something holding her in her sleep, especially if he wasn’t sleeping next to her. They would cuddle before they fell asleep, but even if she wasn’t in his arms the whole night, somehow they always were touching each other in their sleep. It could be their hands, a foot, or their backs, but they were always close.

After a quick shower, he sat next to his sleeping girlfriend, caressing her arm to wake her up.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said in a soft voice when the girl stretched out, opening her eyes slowly.

“Morning, Charlie,” Y/N said, her voice laced with sleep, “Are you going for a run?”

“I already went for a run, my love,” the boy laughed softly, “I got us breakfast, so get your pretty ass out of bed, because I’m starving.”

“I’ll be right there, honey,” she smiled at him and rubbed her face against the pillow one last time before getting up.

Charlie handed her a warm cup of coffee, pointed to the bagels on the table. Y/N picked the one she thought was hers, knowing her boyfriend preferred the one with the beacon.

“This smells so damn good,” Charlie heard her say, and when he looked at her, she was sneakily sniffing the bagel.

And that was one of the little things Y/N did that he found adorable. Every time she had to eat or drink something, she’d smell it slightly, as if she wanted to find out the flavors beforehand.

“Who said that one was yours?” Charlie questioned jokingly just before she took the first bite. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and put the bagel down.

“But you always order the one with avocado and tomato for me, baby,” she pouted and Charlie laughed. He got closer to the girl and pecked her lips.

“I was messing with you,” he clarified.

“What do you have to do today?” Y/N asked, before taking a sip of her coffee.

“I have an interview in like an hour,” he checked his phone with a grimace, “I should probably start getting ready. Do you have to go to the office?”

“No, but I need to catch up on some work,” Y/N answered with a shrug, “Other than that, I guess I’m just gonna chill here.”

“Lucky you,” Charlie stuck his tongue out playfully.

Later that day, when Charlie came back to Y/N’s apartment, he found her sitting on the floor with her chin resting on one of her knees. She always was sitting in the weirdest positions, and then she’d complain about back pain or having pins and needles in her legs. He thought it was cute because it was her way of finding the best position to concentrate on her work.

“You’re gonna end up with back pain, my love,” Charlie warned her and sat on the floor next to her, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Char,” the girl said, turning her attention to the hazel-eyed boy. She laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer, rubbing their noses together before pressing her lips to his in a welcoming kiss.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Charlie murmured against her lips. She hummed in response and he kissed her again.

“I love you too, baby,” she whispered back.

They sat there in silence, while she finished with whatever project she was working on, and once she turned off her laptop, Charlie put on a movie.

“Are we gonna make the effort to cook dinner or do you wanna order something?” He asked, making himself comfortable on the couch and patting the spot next to him, inviting her to join him.

“I’m in the mood for pizza,” she told him and cuddled up next to her boyfriend.

“Five minutes and I’ll call,” Charlie mentioned, wrapping his arms around Y/N and holding her tight against him. Her hair tickled him right in the nose, and he could smell the soft fragrance of her shampoo. “Is it mango or lemon?” He questioned after a while, grabbing a strand of her hair.

“Mango, do you like it?”

“Yeah! it smells great, babe.” Charlie pressed a kiss on top of her head and then struggled a bit to get hold of his phone.

After a quick call to the pizza place they always ordered from, they stayed on the couch, enjoying being in the arms of the other. It was small moments like that one, a movie playing on the tv, but their attention fixed on each other. Charlie loved to hear her laugh every time he tickled her or the funny faces she made whenever he faked pushing her off the couch.

“Pizza’s here!” She chirped when the ring bell resonated through the apartment, standing up quickly and making her way to the door.

“Do you want wine or beer?” Charlie asked, walking to the kitchen.

“Wine,” Y/N put the pizza box on the counter and pointed to the small wine cabinet, “my mom sent me one the other day and she said it was perfect for pizza and pasta.”

“No plates, babe,” Charlie mentioned when he saw his girlfriend trying to reach a couple of plates, “that way we only have to wash the glasses.”

“You’re getting lazy, Gillespie,” Y/N teased the boy, but did as he told her.

With a new movie playing on the tv, pizza, and a bottle of wine they sat again on the couch, bickering over small things like Charlie muttering the dialogues because he knows all the lines or the fact that Y/N can’t sit still while watching a movie.

“If you kick me one more time, Y/N,” he warned her, putting his glass of wine on the coffee table before she could make him spill it on the couch.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Y/N batted her eyelashes and pouted at her boyfriend, “What are you gonna do about it anyway?”

“Y/N stop it,” Charlie warned again, but Y/N kicked his thigh again softly, it was more a nudge than a real kick.

He glanced at her, a grin forming on his lips before he grabbed the girl by her feet and pulled her into a laying position, and attacked her sides with his fingers.

“No, Charlie!” The girl squealed, trying to move away from his hands, “please!”

“That’s not gonna work, my love,” he cackled, moving one of his hands up to her neck knowing that was her weak spot.

“Charlie!” Their laughter filled the room, and Y/N squirmed under the boy, “S’il te plaît, babe!”

“Oh! Tu parles français, mon amour.” Charlie knew his girlfriend only knew how to say a few things in French, please being one of them. He stopped his attack and left a soft kiss on her nose, before pressing their lips together in a kiss.

Y/N pulled away from the kiss first, still short of breath because of the tickles, with a smile on her face, she brought her hands up to cup her boyfriend’s face and pulled him into a kiss again.

“I love you, my idiot,” she breathed against his lips, “now get off, you’re crushing me.”

“I love you too, mon amour.”

Charlie was about to get in bed when Y/N walked in with a towel wrapped around her body and her hair wet. He let out a sigh, too tired to complain now.

“Sit so we can’t get this done fast,” he pointed to the bed and plugged in the hairdryer.

Sure, he was exhausted, but he loved to help his girl dry her hair, and be a part of her little night routine. That was one of the things he loved about her, she had a tendency to be unpredictable, but no matter what, she’d always take a shower before bed, take her time putting on lotions and skincare, and he’d always help her dry her hair if he was staying over.

He loved the fact that he could tell if Y/N was laying next to him just by her fruity fragrance. He loved to help her relax at the end of the day, and somehow, drying her hair helped him relax too.

After her hair was finally dry, he covered himself with the covers and sent a quick goodnight message to his family group chat, while he waited for his girl to finish her night routine.

“Vanilla or coconut?” She wondered, fumbling things in her nightstand drawer. He saw the two hand creams she was holding and smiled.

“Vanilla.”

She squeezed the tube to put cream on her own hands and then squeezed cream on his hands.

“You know I love your sexy guitarist hands, but we don’t like dry hands in this house,” Y/N commented with a sweet smile.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Charlie said, shaking his head in amusement.

“Goodnight, Charlie,” the girl answered, cuddling next to him.

“I love you,” he wrapped an arm around her and closed his eyes, happy to spend another night next to the girl he loved so much.

“I love you too, babe.”

#charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie one shot #jatp cast imagine #charlie gillespie fluff #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie

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clairdelunelove · 3 years

Text

AOT Valentine’s Day Headcanons

eren jaeger x reader, jean kirschstein x reader, armin arlert x reader, levi ackerman x reader, erwin smith x reader, porco galliard x reader, genderneutral!reader

genre: insane amounts of fluff, comfort

warnings: slight cursing, insane amounts of fluff

synopsis: small scenarios of what some aot boys would do for you during valentine’s day.

a.n: enjoy the lovely day with some of these cuties! remember to take care of yourselves and know you’re all loved <3

eren jaeger

this man would definitely try to cook a nice dinner for you

especially if you’re having a hard week

expect him to be researching the best recipe a couple days beforehand

“what are you doing, eren?”

he’ll glance up and nonchalantly mutter, “nothing, babe” while scrolling through fancy recipes

on valentine’s day it’s his time to shine

waits for you to leave the house and go to work before leaving to pick up the necessary ingredients

gets in a verbal argument with a store clerk if he doesn’t find the exact name of what he’s searching for

“are you deaf? I said I needed a bag of shrimp”

“and we have that, sir. you said you needed a bag of prawns right?”

“it’s shrimp! how many goddamn times do I need to repeat myself?”

gets home with bags full of groceries and gets to work

slowly chops all the vegetables and curses when he nicks his finger with the edge of the knife

puts too much oil in the frying pan and tosses everything in there

scrolls through his phone while waiting

spends fifteen minutes ogling at his screensaver

of course it’s a pic of you

ends up burning everything he made

orders takeout, plates it real nice, and attempts to brush off that it was his cooking once you’re home

“this is so good, babe!” you exclaim while lifting the fork to your mouth, “tastes like the order we usually get at that one French restaurant.”

“glad you like it, baby”

cue his nervous sweating

jean kirschstein

simp energy!

makes previous reservations to take a painting class with you

tells you to dress warm before the two of you head out

so! happy!

has the goofiest smile on the actual date

tucks your hand in his pocket while walking to the art studio

spends the whole time checking over at your easel

audibly approves of everything you do, even if you’re drawing a line

“wow, it looks great sweetheart”

scrunches up his brows while concentrating

listens to the art instructor say to paint something that they love

takes it quite literally

paints you

tries to get each pretty feature about you

swipes his hand over his cheek and gets paint on it

literally sweats out of pure focus and won’t want to leave until he’s done

“jean, babe, we gotta go”

“five more minutes please. almost done”

five min turns into five hours

jean’s painting of you is surprisingly amazing and he’s even lowkey impressed

has a random stranger take a pic of you and him together while holding up the paintings

treats you to an expensive restaurant afterwards and pays

full stomachs = happy couple

pulls you close while walking through the downtown streets

whispers cheeky pickup lines into your ear and presses a kiss against your head

best. day. ever.

connie springer

did you say it was valentine’s day?

shit

definitely forgets about the whole holiday but is quick enough to put something together for you

you both aren’t super invested in sappy holidays but connie tries each time

the morning of, he’ll run to the nearest shops and try to pick out a bouquet of flowers for you

everything’s sold out

will curse his luck and literally sprint out of there

kicks himself for not planning in advance as he’s walking up the driveway of your house

notices the neighbor’s beautiful flowers

idea!

he will dash through each neighbor’s yard and pick their flowers so a mismatched bouquet rests in his hand

“happy valentine’s day, my favorite goofball!”

“thanks, babe,” your wide eyes stare at the uncoordinated bouquet in your hands, “I love it”

cue the mud that falls to the floorboards

you scold connie about the dirt that’s still stuck on the roots since it dirties the floors

he’ll take you out to watch a comedy show too!

whole evening of laughter while his arm is wrapped around your shoulder

you were both glowing in happiness (along with having a sore stomach) afterwards

wraps his sweater around you since the evening was getting chilly

drives you home and gives you the sweetest kiss

he’ll pull away with a, “wow” while being completely dazed out

let’s you take his jacket home and texts you corny jokes the whole night

Maro Bott

desperately! wants you to be his valentine

almost cries tears of joy when you accept his confession which only makes you confused

“Marco, sweetie, we’ve been dating for two years”

“doesn’t matter, love”

shows up extra early with a bouquet of roses

“happy valentine’s day!”

expect him to walk inside the house and look through all your cabinets for a vase

helps you pick out an outfit because he has the “perfect date” planned

causes you to be wrapped in bundles of clothing

won’t tell you where he’s taking you once the two of you are in the car

“an,” you tilt your head and albeit a bit puzzled, “ice rink?”

“time for some ice skating!”

laces up your skates before he even does his own so he makes sure it’s secure

will ask multiple times if your feet are comfortable

once he has his skates on, it’s game over

can’t walk without holding onto your hand for a couple moments

“this is harder than I thought,” he confesses with a nervous grin

gets on the ice and falls

hard

the thump causes everyone to look at the two of you and he only responds with, “oh look (Y/n)! I’ve fallen for you! Get it?”

undoubtedly makes you giggle and onlookers awe

gets the hang of ice skating and teaches you how if you’re scared of falling

makes excuses to pull you close and sweetly kiss your cheek

“it’s part of the learning process”

the day was as sweet as Marco is

Armin Arlert

bookstore date!

will definitely plan in advance because he wants everything to be perfect

expect a good morning text that’s a whole paragraph long <3

still asks you, “can I be your valentine?” even if you are both dating

plan on wearing matching outfits for the day

light academia style of white turtlenecks, beige pants, and cardigans

will take a selfie with you and set it as his lock screen so he can awe at it every second

“you’re breathtaking”

intertwines your fingers with his when you’re holding hands

swings it while walking

lots of attention once the two of you step inside the bookstore

constant whispering about the matching outfits and innocent affection

he’ll lead you to the back of the store and spend the entire day there

sits on the floor, leaning against the wooden bookcase, and stroking your hair while you’re laying on his lap

silence = peace

piles of books around you both

“how’s the plot, love?”

will ask that when his head is resting on your thigh and inwardly loves how comfy you are

buys all the books you want and waves away your credit card when you try to pay

“consider it repayment for spending the day with me”

holds the tote bag of books the whole time despite it being heavy

stops by the cafe to buy cups of hot chocolate

notices a small amount of whipped cream on the corner of your mouth

chuckles and stops to literally lean down to press his lips against yours in order to wipe it off

whispers, “you’re so lovely, angel”

both of you will pull away with flushed faces and lovesick smiles

Levi Ackerman

“what’s this for, brat?”

frowns once he opens his front door and you’re standing there with a wide grin

“happy valentine’s day, dear! I wanted to watch a movie then-”

“yeah, yeah”

lets you in anyways

takes the large basket full of movies, snacks, and skincare out of your hands

sets it on the kitchen counter and you immediately pop a bag of popcorn into the microwave

your movements are quick as you’re scurrying around the kitchen retrieving bowls, plates, and napkins

levi watches you from the couch, inwardly pleased that you’re able to memorize the layout of his house since you’ve been over so many times

he’d never tell a soul though

movies with levi!

he won’t pay attention to the movie at all but still comments film mistakes

“he wasn’t even wearing that sweater in the previous scene”

“levi, honey, who even pays attention to that”

“people with eyes”

allows you to cuddle close to him but his fingers itch to bring you even closer

audibly groans when you move away to fetch something

“self care time!” you exclaim while holding up a pack of face masks

will not let you put one on him once he sees how silly they look

“please?”

“no,” he states, “they look fucking ridiculous”

does it anyways once your puppy dog eyes are on display

curses as you slick his hair back and put one on him

hates it and voices his opinion

but at the end of the day, he agrees with the saying, ‘happy wife, happy life’

and oh yes, you were going to be his wife one day

Erwin Smith

imagine sleeping in and waking up to breakfast in bed

pancakes, waffles, bagels, raspberry streusel muffins

and everything’s like

in the shape of a heart <3

turns on some classical, romance music

sweet candles that smell like vanilla = burning

that’s what this man would do

wakes up super early

determined to whip everything up pronto

folded all the laundry, cleaned the dishes, vacuumed the house

amazing

10/10 gentleman

“good morning, love”

edges the bedroom door open with his shoulder while holding a tray of delicious food

definitely still in casual wear clothes

a sweater and grey joggers that he wore to sleep

loves the smile on your face

says “happy valentine’s day” and presses a kiss on the back of your hand

sits on the edge of the bed while you eat

chuckles when you feed him

lets you though

brushes your hair back each time you take a bite to eat

amusingly shakes his head whenever you over-exaggerate a hum in delight

pleased smirks!

definitely tried to swipe whip cream over your cheek just to hear you giggle

it’s beautiful

watches the way the sunlight pours through the window and creates a glow on your face

serenity, calmness, and adoration

discreetly pinches himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming

wouldn’t want this day to end

Porco Galliard

“you doin’ anything today or what?”

will be the first text you get from him in the early morning

after a second passes, the little dots show up to indicate he’s typing again

“nvm. lemme take you out today”

shows up to your place unannounced and immediately notices what you’re wearing

“you’re wearing that? like for real?”

“is there something wrong with it?”

notices the panic in your eyes and immediately stutters

“nah, just,” he’ll bring his hand up to swipe at his noise while avoiding your gaze, “think you’ll be cold but you can wear my jacket or whatever.”

leads you to his muscle car and opens up the passenger door for you

surprisingly chivalrous for the day

drives throughout town to pick up stuff like a blanket, picnic basket, pre-made food, drinks

pays for it, of course, because he claims he’s the better man like that

“only scummy men let their partners pay”

spends the whole day driving around, hand on your thigh, while blasting your fav songs”

rolls the windows down so other drivers look your way

will also flip off anyone that suggestively gazes at you

loves when you belt out the lyrics and eagerly want him to join your singing session

rolls his eyes, “me? singing? gross.”

will sing 100% but only if you don’t call his bluff

pulls to the side of the road and sets up a romantic picnic spot nestled in an open field

drapes his jacket over your smaller physique and only mutters, “wear it before you catch a cold”

spends the evening star gazing, letting you rest your head on his chest while his hands are folded behind his neck

carries you back to the car once you’re asleep, snaps on your seatbelt, presses a kiss on your forehead, and mumbles, “thanks for lettin’ me take you out today, idiot.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger headcanons #jean kirschstein #jean x reader #jean kirschtein headcanons #armin aot #armin arlert #armin x reader #levi ackerman #erwin smith #porco headcanons #porco galliard #connie springer #connie x reader

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