#AND I STILL HAVE MY HANDS ON THE WHEEL!!!!!

[holyblonded]

vroom vroom | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, mapi leon x teen!reader, lucy bronze x teen!reader

summary: alexia, lucy, and mapi are tasked with teaching you how to drive

warnings: near death experience in a car, idk about spain’s driving laws but in most states in the US, you get your permit at 15 1/2 and then hold your permit for 9 months and be at least 16 and 3 months before you get you license so this is what it’s based on

notes: in my mind, both keira and lucy are still with barca 🧘🏾‍♀️

“You cannot be serious right now,” you said, staring in disbelief as Alexia secured the bicycle helmet onto her head, adjusting the straps with absolute precision.

“As a heart attack,” Alexia replied, now moving to put on elbow pads.

You turned to Olga, who was sprawled out on the couch, highly amused by the unfolding situation. “Tell her she’s being ridiculous.”

Olga smirked, barely holding back her laughter. “Amor, you are being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously safe,” Alexia corrected, tapping the side of her helmet with confidence.

Your jaw dropped. “Ale, you’re teaching me how to drive. A car. Not a bike, not a scooter, a car. Why are you dressed like you’re about to enter a roller derby?”

Alexia crossed her arms. “Because the last time I let you sit behind the wheel, you nearly drove us into a bush. I like my life, and I intend to keep it intact.”

“That bush came out of nowhere!” you defended yourself, exasperated.

Olga snorted. “Bushes don’t move, Estrellita.”

You shot her a glare before turning back to Alexia. “Fine. If you’re going to be like this, then I get to wear my own safety gear.”

Alexia nodded approvingly. “Good. I have an extra helmet in the trunk.”

“That is not what I meant!” you groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch.

Olga was shaking with laughter at this point, wiping her eyes. “You should’ve just taken the lesson, Estrellita. Now you’re both going to look like two children trying to qualify for their go-kart licenses.”

Alexia smirked. “Better safe than sorry.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I refuse to be seen in public with you like this.”

“Too bad,” Alexia said, grabbing the car keys and motioning for you to follow. “Because we’re going. And if you complain, I will make you wear knee pads too.”

You groaned, dragging your feet toward the door.

“Have fun, kids!” Olga called after you, still giggling.

“You have got to be shitting me!” you exclaimed, freezing in place as you climbed into the driver’s seat, only to be met with Mapi and Lucy sitting smugly in the back.

Both were decked out in full protective gear—helmets securely fastened, elbow and knee pads strapped on like they were about to be thrown into a demolition derby rather than a driving lesson.

“Why are the two of you here? And the helmets? Really?” You gestured wildly, turning to Alexia, who was climbing into the passenger seat like she was about to endure the worst experience of her life.

“Because I can’t do this alone anymore,” Alexia muttered, rubbing her temples like she was already regretting her choices.

“The helmets and guards are for our protection,” Mapi chimed in, adjusting the straps on her helmet until they were practically cutting off circulation. “Last time I took you driving, you nearly hit a mailman.”

“In my defense, he came out of nowhere,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“It was his job to be there! That’s why it’s called mail delivery. You don’t deliver it from the sky!”

Lucy snorted, reaching for her seatbelt. “Yeah, Ale called us in for backup after she told us about the bush incident.”

You groaned, slumping against the wheel. “The bush was literally in the way!”

“The bush was on the sidewalk, Estrelleta,” Alexia deadpanned.

“Okay, whatever. Everybody buckle up,” you muttered, pressing the button to start the car.

“Oh trust me, I’ve been buckled since the moment I sat down,” Mapi said, yanking the belt so tight that it looked like it might fuse with her body.

“Same,” Lucy agreed, giving her helmet a few extra taps. “You can never be too careful.”

Alexia sighed, pressing the bridge of her nose. “Alright, let’s go over the basics again before we even think about moving.”

“I know the basics,” you huffed.

“Oh, do you?” Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Then tell me, where’s the brake?”

You pressed your lips together, staring at the pedals. “Uh, the left one?”

Alexia inhaled sharply, her grip on the passenger-side handle tightening.

Lucy whispered to Mapi, “We are so gonna die.”

“You’ll be fine,” you waved them off. “Alright, here we go!”

And with that, you slammed your foot down.

The car jerked forward like it had just been launched out of a slingshot, sending Mapi and Lucy flying back into their seats with strangled yelps.

“ESTRELLETA!” Alexia screeched, bracing herself against the dashboard.

“BRAKE, BRAKE, BRAKE!” Mapi yelled, gripping the back of Alexia’s seat for dear life.

“I am braking!” you argued.

“No! You’re accelerating!” Lucy shrieked, hands gripping the ceiling as if that would help.

You let out a panicked scream, slamming your foot down on something—thankfully, this time, it was actually the brake.

Everyone lurched forward with a collective oof, and for a moment, there was complete and utter silence in the car.

Alexia, breathing heavily, turned her head very slowly to look at you.

“What,” she said, voice eerily calm, “was that?”

You gave her a sheepish smile. “A test?”

Lucy let out a weak laugh from the back. “Yeah, well, I just saw my entire life flash before my eyes, so that’s fun.”

“I think I had an out-of-body experience,” Mapi muttered, still clutching Alexia’s seat. “I literally saw myself floating above the car.”

“Okay, okay, let’s try again,” you said, clearing your throat.

“God help us,” Alexia mumbled under her breath.

This time, you actually listened to Alexia’s instructions (mostly). The car started smoothly, and for a few blissful minutes, it almost seemed like things were going well.

Until you had to make a turn.

“Turn slowly, slowly—” Alexia started, but it was too late.

You turned the wheel way too fast, sending the car swerving violently.

“SLOWLY, I SAID SLOWLY!” Alexia yelled, grabbing onto the handle above her door.

“WHY IS THIS THING SO SENSITIVE?!” you shrieked back, trying to straighten out.

Lucy and Mapi were screaming in the back.

“ESTRELLITA, I SWEAR TO GOD—” Mapi howled.

“I WANT TO GO HOME!” Lucy shouted.

Somehow, miraculously, you managed to get the car straightened out again. Everyone sat there, breathing heavily.

Alexia had her face buried in her hands.

Mapi looked like she might be reconsidering her entire life.

Lucy was muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

Then, you approached a stop sign.

Alexia exhaled, nodding. “Alright. Good, now—”

But instead of gently stopping, you slammed the brake, sending everyone lurching forward again.

“I SAID GENTLE!” Alexia yelled.

“My bad!” you huffed.

“I HAVE WHIPLASH,” Mapi announced dramatically, rubbing her neck.

“Oh my God, I think my soul left my body again,” Lucy muttered, eyes wide.

And then, finally, you parked.

You leaned back in your seat, exhaling in satisfaction. “I think that went well.”

Alexia turned her head slowly, staring at you like you’d grown a second head.

Mapi and Lucy were both still gripping their seats like they were waiting for the final impact.

“Well?” Alexia repeated, voice dangerously high-pitched.

You grinned. “Yeah! Nobody died, right?”

Alexia blinked. Then she turned to Lucy and Mapi.

“I need strong alcohol,” she announced.

“Agreed,” Mapi and Lucy said in unison.

You pouted. “That’s rude.”

Alexia pointed at you. “You are never driving without supervision.”

“I don’t think my heart can handle another lesson,” Lucy admitted.

“I know mine can’t,” Mapi added, pulling off her helmet with shaky hands.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad!” you protested.

Alexia just gave you a look. “Get out of the driver’s seat before I have an aneurysm.”

With a dramatic sigh, you unbuckled and slid out of the car. “Such little faith.”

As you walked off, Mapi turned to Lucy and muttered, “Next time, we bring airbags.”

Lucy nodded, still dazed. “And a priest.”

[casdeans-pie]

The ending credits of Jurassic Park roll up the screen, accompanied with the iconic theme music, and Dean presses pause. It bothers him that the whole running away from murderous creatures with sharp teeth thing got to him so much - this used to be a movie he loved. Now he just feels kind of... weird.

"Sometimes I still think I'm gonna see the slashes from the hellhounds," Dean confesses quietly, touching a hand to his stomach. "Is that weird?"

Cas shakes his head slowly. "Not at all. I imagine it must have been a highly traumatic experience. It's not surprising it left scars." His expression softens. "Though I am glad I could remove the physical scars when I rebuilt your body."

"You and me both, buddy." Dean reaches over the gap between their chairs and claps a hand on Cas's shoulder. He rests it there for longer than he intends to, before he pulls it back slowly. He should say something to change the subject, but instead he hesitates and finally says, even quieter than before, "I wish I could take your scars away too."

"I don't... have any scars," Cas says, eyebrows furrowed. "I've healed all of my injuries."

"On your body, yeah. But I mean" - Dean gestures broadly at the space behind Cas's shoulders - "on the rest of you."

Cas's whole body goes still. It looks like he even stops breathing. "You can..."

"Yeah."

Cas closes his eyes as if in pain. "How long..."

"Let's just say it's been a long time."

"I see. I'm sorry you have to see that."

"Dude- what the- what are you sorry for? You're the one walking around with all those- the cracks and the bits missing in those wheels, that smashed up halo- that shit looks like it hurt!"

"It did," Cas agrees, a hitch in his voice. "But it was all worth it to be here with you now." He finally opens his eyes and tilts his head. "You're not scared?"

Dean can feel warmth spreading like syrup through his body, strongest in his chest. "Of you? Cas. C'mon. I haven't been scared of you since you spoke to me after Samhain," he says, a grin pulling up at his lips.

"Not of me," Cas says sheepishly, "of... that."

"That," Dean says in a low imitating rumble, "is you." He gets up from his chair, kneels at Cas's feet, and reaches up to where he can see one of the many ghostly broken wheels spinning. He can see his hand touching where the golden wheel is, but he can't feel anything.

Cas makes a small noise at the back of his throat.

"If I could, I'd heal your scars like you did to mine," Dean says.

[nerdygirlramblings]

The 141 and being "our wife" (for @beloveds-embrace based on this)

You're up to your elbows in flour, prepping the dough for Yorkshire pudding, when you hear the rumble of an engine in the drive. You wait until it's followed by four thunks before drawing in a deep breath.

Just as you're about to shout up the stairs, you hear a set of footsteps thunder down from the second floor.

"Dad's home!" your oldest, Kinsey, shouts to you.

"I heard hunny," you call back. "Can you get the door? I'm sure Papa's going to have a bunch of things with him."

"Alright, Mom," Kinsey says. It sounds like she's in the entryway. You hear the squeak of the hinges as she opens the front door. As it does, you hear your youngest's happy scream. Bailey must be able to see out the window.

"Da! Da! Da! Da!" he babbles.

"Yes, Bae, that's Daddy," you hear your middle child, Emma, tell him. You smile to yourself, proud of how well your kids get along. You're still musing over your little family when a rumble pulls you out of your reverie.

"Hey, Kins," John's voice says. "Where's your mama?"

"Mama's in the kitchen," Emma responds.

"Emma, my sunshine!" he crows. You hear her giggle and can only imagine John's picking her up and probably tossing her into the air. A squeal proves your instinct right.

"Munchkin!" you hear Simon call. He must have been just behind John.

You hear Kinsey groan at the nickname, but it's impossible to miss the smile in her voice when she says, "Welcome home, Dad."

It's Johnny's voice you hear next. "Where's my Em girl?" he says. It's followed by a grunt, a squeal, and and a, "Watch it, MacTavish," in John's deep baritone. Johnny probably snatched the girl right out of John's arms.

You hear the wheels of Bailey's walker rattle along the floor as Kyle's voice joins the fray. "Baby boy! You've gotten so big!"

Bailey coos, "Da. Da. Da. Da," at him, which earns a guffaw from Johnny.

"Tha's yer Daddy. I'm Da!"

As you listened to your children greet their fathers, you put the dough into the cooker and are washing up. You wipe your wet hands on the tea towel, and a pair of strong hands fall on your waist. The man smells like sunshine and tobacco.

John's beard tickles your throat when he leans to kiss you. "Thank you, Mama," he whispers. You know from previous deployments he's thanking you for waiting for them, for caring for the kids in their absence, for carrying the weight of everything by yourself. "We're home now." He punctuates his message with another kiss as you feel Simon enter the room.

You step away from John's embrace to wrap your arms around as much of Simon as you can manage. You don't say anything, and neither does he. He drops a kiss on the hair and holds you tight for one minute, then two. When you feel hik unfurl, tension seeping away, you finally whisper, "Welcome home, Si."

"Missed you, Mama," he replies. He gives you another tight squeeze before stepping back. You turn to find Kyle leaning against the door frame. He smiles at you, and you open your arms for him.

He picks you up with a spin. "Ky," you giggle, feeling decades younger.

"Mama," he says, "it smells amazing in here." He smiles at you. "You take such good care of us." He pulls you against him and brushes his lips across yours. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"Always," you reply, cupping his cheek. You close your eyes and press your forehead to his. "Always," you whisper again.

Finally, Johnny's behind you, practically pulling you from Kyle's hug. "Stop hogging out missus, Garrick. I didnae get a turn yet." You see Kyle roll his eyes, but he lets you go, passing you gently into Johnny's arms. "Mama," Johnny says, looking you in the eye. "It's so good tae be home."

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the base of his skull. "It's good to have you all home." You close your eyes and breathe deeply. You try to blink them away, but you feel the tears lining your eyes. "So so good."

This last deployment was longer than anyone thought it would be. After three months, they went radio silent, and if Kate hadn't been giving you updates, you would have been out tracking your men across the desert. Six months alone. Six months raising three kids on your own. Six months worrying about them every day.

But they were home now. And that was enough.

[gnohomotho]

HEAR ME OUT

This request that i have is so cheesy but sounds so good in my mind, forgive me 😭😫

Junho and reader doing like a private first impression thing like u know where the bride and groom are standing back to back and then they turn around. And like Junho is mesmerised has tears is his eyes

Like i literally only have the most cheesy and romantic ideas in my mind i CANNOT help it

Btw love your works 😜😚😚😚❤️❤️

I did my best, Anon, your message truly made my day. ♥ :D I hope I didn't overdo it, then again, cheese is my livelihood. Sorry for any oddities or spelling mistakes, I'm a bit in the trenches today. :c

It's a bit longer with some wedding dress backstory and getting ready, but I think the good part is there. :3 I hope you enjoy! ♥♥♥

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The Moment I Saw You

Pairing: Jun-ho x almostwife!fem!reader Summary: And you thought the dress shopping would be hard. The first impression you wished to give your husband-to-be went differently than expected, and you are swimming in a sea of love and bliss. Warnings: Remember that one modded Skyrim playthrough where the player accidentally glitched the cheese-wheel summoning spell and drowned the whole town in cheese? Well, that's what's happening here, but worse. Fluff! Fluff! More fluff! Word count: 2.7k

Everything should have been perfect.

You were picking the dress, and it was taking long. You were standing in the bridal shop, unable to choose, tired, wanting to go home. The person looking back at you in the mirror didn’t look like a bride to you. Even though everything was in place, it felt…wrong. Fake, somehow. Ill-fitting. The shop assistant was very kind, you thought her patient – but even she could see you were not exactly the glowing bride-to-be she was used to. Nor anything like the shiny photographs littered across the front desk.  

Your close friend was there with you, trying her best, you could hear her rummaging through the dresses again, muttering – “puffy sleeves, prom dress, no, no, no, form fitting…” She had the fervour of a very hungry owl searching for that one mouse that got away. “Dumb…long…short…dear god do people actually wear this…oooh, shiny…no…hmmm…” She was already buckling under the weight of all the new ones she picked out for you.

“Hey, Y/N, are you sure you don’t like this one?” She held up a gorgeous gown, white as snow, silk, smooth, reflecting light with a soft plunge of a neckline, and a revealed back. The skirt fell in a mermaid style, you could look like a gorgeous datura flower at the bottom.

“No, no, I’m not sure…not…” You think of yourself in the dress and frown. Your husband to be…Your Jun-ho…should he see you like this? He should see the most beautiful version of you on such a day – and yet you felt more like he was going to run away the moment he laid eyes you.

“Please? How about this one?” Your friend holds up her second choice. The dress is half lace, intricately woven with flowers and soft curling patterns, with off-the-shoulder milky sleeves, a lovely bodice and a small ribbon on the back. The veil would hide more of you, you think. But still. You eye the skirt, its velvety material falling almost straight down. You know you’d be leaving nothing to the imagination and wonder, what if this is all a mistake? What if he made a gigantic mistake, from the very first moment he met you? The first date? The first touch? What if you’ve been unknowingly deceiving him, and now he’ll see you for what you are, what you look like, inside and out? You can’t hide in white.

Your friend walks up to you and gently takes your hand to help you off the platform. She guides you away from the mirrors. As she walks you to the changing room, she is slowly stroking your hand, noticing you are beginning to resemble a vibrating ball of nerves.

“Y/N, if you keep frowning like that, I’m pretty sure you’ll have to pay for extra retouching of all the new wrinkles.” She tried to joke but immediately noticed that it was neither the time nor place and changed her demeanour. You sit, feeling the small bench weigh down with you as she does too, and gently hold your stomach as you speak. You’re unsure which one of you will get the hint first, but you’re pushing it out into the back of your mind as far as you can.

“I just…” You try to speak but the words come out all wrong. “I don’t think he’ll…he’ll be so disappointed.” You sigh and trace both hands down your face to calm down and wipe the stress away, but it clings to every molecule of your skin. “Jun-ho isn’t the type to…” No, all wrong. “It’s not the dresses, it’s me.” Gosh darn it, the tears begin to form. “It’s just me.”

“Hey, hey…darling…” your friend begins stroking the back of your hand as she holds your palm. She is warm and reassuring, but you struggle to believe her.

“It’s ok. It’s ok to be nervous. But you’re beautiful, no matter the dress. To be honest,” she looks around with added drama, as if feigning trying not to be heard, “I don’t think any of the dresses could do you justice and you should just walk out there stark naked if you want them to see how gorgeous you are,” she laughs and squeezes your hand, you look up and let yourself rest with her reassuring, peaceful smile that reaches her lowered eyes now directly resting on you. Although you’re not hugging, you feel held.

Her eyes move to your hand resting on your stomach and you could swear you saw a glint sparkle in their corner and her lashes seem to fall far slower as she blinks, but says nothing. She is so very thoughtful, you think.

“Look, if I know anything about Jun-ho, which isn’t much” she continues, “that man is head over heels for you and the moment you said “yes” I don’t think he’s heard any other words of any language since.”

You let out a small chuckle through another tear. She continues, knowing she’s on a the right path, knuckle punching every guard on the proverbial way.

“I know you’ve walked past this shop year after year, before any of this, and I know you loved the dresses for their beauty, their, elegance, their promise. Y/N, you told me yourself, what was it…winter…”

“Winter dresses,” you chime in quietly. Barely a whisper. Breathing in, you try to remember those cold walks.

“I walked past, and I tried to look at the winter dresses when I knew the shop was closed. The ones with those gorgeous, long skirts, heavy velvety fabric where they met the skin, forming an A shape towards the waist.” You didn’t tell her that you liked both their protectiveness and the fact that if you decided to dramatically fall into a dark body of water, their puffiness and beauty would truly make the moment worth it. You continued after another less shaky but still reserved breath: “Hugged it and up there, the white enveloping the chest – perhaps with lace across the collarbones, but skin hidden, just a touch away…” you let yourself sink into the memory, far before you met Jun-ho, your husband to be. “With that veil that resembled a winter cape from a Russian fairytale.”

“There’s my little Vasilisa,” your friend laughed and stood up. “I’ll be right back, no eloping!”

You sat there, hand still resting on your belly, worried, excited, feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life. Thinking of what Jun-ho must be doing and feeling. Feeling worse and worse, as if you don’t deserve this life.

You quickly pull out your phone to check the time and melt. You have no idea how Jun-ho's timing is always so perfect, but only a minute or two ago, the words:

"Hey, sweet [diminutive version of Y/N], are you ok? Sorry, just wanted to check on you. I hope the dresses are treating you well! Tell [friend] to look after my wife!” light up your screen.

Another message lit up immediately after: “*wife-to-be, I just can’t stop saying it, sorry! I love you, Y/N.”

The smile that spreads from the corner of your mouth and butterflies that saunter from your stomach almost pushed all the anxiety off a cliff. But it still clung to the edge.

Your friend waltzed in and to your utter disbelief, she held up the perfect dress.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The click of your pearl-white heels was the only thing to be heard across the grass. You focused on their soft step and keeping your balance. Your heart was fluttering out of its chest, your stomach was doing its best to leave the building in excitement, in fear, in anticipation – the train of your dress followed you with a soft sliding murmur and the skirt gently touched each flower on the way. You were so glad he chose to do it this way, away from others. Flowers, a shield of wise oak trees. Bird chatter, a gentle breeze on your flushed cheeks, that’s all you truly needed. That, and him.

“I want to be the only one to see you, Y/N. The only one to witness the first sight of my wife.”

The sweetheart neckline clung to your collarbones, the off-the-shoulder fabric neatly stacked in on itself was cuddling your back and shoulders, light and nearly translucent. It rested on your skin as a light lover’s touch. The beautiful, laced veil, floating with you as well as behind you was hiding, yet still accentuating your shining hair with small white flowers nestled between locks. It fell periodically across your back and your shoulders, resting on your collarbones with each step. The heavy fabric of the dress which clung to your waist and fell once more felt cool and warm at the same time, giving you an air of ethereal slow motion. You looked like you belonged in a winter forest. A vision of indescribable, untouchable beauty. The wind gently played with your hair, as if longing to caress you as much as the man in front of you.

As you walked, the form of your husband-to-be materialised in front of you, facing the other way. Although there were many other features around, each quite beautiful, you had no eyes for them. Slowly, meticulously, as if not to scare him, you walked up the small hill towards him and lingered behind him. He hasn’t seen you, but he knows you’re there – his back is giving away the quickness of his breathing and his attempts to steady it down. Please breathe, my love…” Your thoughts leave their nerves at bay and soften into nothing but care and love for him. Finally, as lightly as a feather, you rest your back against his, feeling his breath quicken once more and his entire form tense and release, as if wishing to melt into you.

Jun-ho almost hesitates, but slowly, in what is trying to be a level manner, speaks.

“On the count of three, Y/N?”

You breathe out a tiny chuckle. Ever the pragmatic yet meticulous man.

“One…” you say almost in unison.

Your breath quickens, your heart is racing ten miles a minute, the dress seems to be tighter and tighter and the birds louder and louder yet so far away.

“Two…” he says alone and you whisper with him, mind turning to mushy cotton but enveloped in such a warm feeling of bliss.

Jun-ho takes in a last, heavy breath and as he lets it out…

“Three.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You turn around in unison and both stand frozen in the moment.

Your eyes meet.

Jun-ho stands utterly transfixed, trying to take you in, all of you, in your entirety at once. But his eyes cannot contain you, so he keeps glitching, his hands that he wished to extend to you the moment you turned, are shivering and tense.

His soft gaze tries to dart and look at you from a different side, angle, but he cannot. You’re…you’re a vision that he cannot and will not disentangle from.

As his eyes are trying to take in every inch of you and warming his heart with every molecule he manages to snatch from the photons reflecting your form, his heart is firmly on its way out of his chest.

You hear nothing but your breath now, you’re looking up into his eyes, inches away from his face, which is frozen and beginning to tear at itself. As if a mask was cracking in nothing but a barrage of indescribable beauty and feeling.

Jun-ho slowly lifts a shivering hand to his mouth and rests it across his face, fingers almost up to his eyes, as if shielding both you and him from the raw, sheer affection that has swept him off his feet – and you, you are both the waves he’s drowning in and the only lifeboat on the sea.

“Y/N…” he barely chokes out in a whisper.

“Y/N…you…you look...” his hand is joined by his other, slowly laying each palm and finger against themselves under his lips. Jun-ho doesn’t know why he cannot control his expression, a wide smile is fighting to be seen, his eyes and heart are tearing at him in springs of bliss and absolute adoration as he wishes to scoop you up to him and melt into you, squeeze you so tight you won’t know where you stop and he begins.

But you are…untouchable as this vision before him. As he steadies himself, he tries to breathe, getting a breath caught in his throat. He finally looks away and you worry, worry your worst fears came true. Worry that the girl sitting in the bridal shop holding her stomach was correct.

But on second look, he is…oh gosh…” The mixture of worry and unexpected relief, bundled up in nothing but affection and deep care threaten to drive you to both laugh and tear up.

“Jun-ho…!” A hushed whisper from your tender lips brings him back to you, turning his head slowly back. He meets your gaze with reserved fear, one eye – look away – second eye – look away – both – remain with you. You see now, with warmth growing in your chest and flutters dancing across your skin, why he was shielding his mouth, then face, then needing to look away entirely. You take both his hands into yours, caressing each finger lovingly as you lower them down to your waist. You envelop his hands, still caressing each knuckle with the ball of your thumb.

“Jun-ho, my love…” you say slowly, levelly, in a low whisper. “My sweet love…it’s alright.”

Jun-ho cannot help it, the sides of his eyes are fully sparkling now. Your eyes are fully transfixed on his own and guide his gaze into you, and he smiles that wide smile you have grown to love so dearly. Jun-ho’s eyes are now fully glistening like still lakes under a full moon.

“I cannot believe you’re here. I---I---cannot believe…it’s…you…with me…My…My…”

Jun-ho cannot speak further but you feel the hands in your tender embrace reciprocate a grip far more secure and loving than you could ever wish for. As protective as it was reassuring. Jun-ho always held you as if you could slip away at any moment, but so tenderly that should you do so, you’d be protected and enveloped in loving warmth to the very end.

“Your wife. My darling. My husband.” Your face softened as you let the words slide across your lips and into the chasm between you, creating the gentlest of bridges.

“My---wife…” Jun-ho lets out an untangled breath of relief, the full smile finally taking over his face. Sparkles turning to tears fall at the same moment, as if a weight both descended from and knocked the air out of him in a single moment.

“You’re…you’re so beautiful. My love. My everything. You are…you are everything.” He’s still smiling as the small specks run down his cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. I love you. I’m so glad. So glad. So happy. I don’t know how to---can I…can I touch you?”

As the lightly shivering voice in contrast to his imposing, beautiful form reached your ears, you lightly caressed his cheek, and he leaned into your palm immediately.

“Of course, Jun-ho.”

Without a second to spare, he lovingly, gently, as lightly as he could in his given disposition, cupped your face and gave you the longest, most tender of kisses. Slowly his hands trailed to your waist, brushing, as if making sure you weren’t going to disappear or turn into a beautiful dream.

Finally, Jun-ho everso carefully took you in fully. Without warning but still tenderly, Jun-ho lifted you up to him, as if you and your dress were as light as the breeze playing with your hair. In one movement he twirled around with you, letting your dress get caught in the moment and carried by motion, his gorgeous wife, his Y/N, nought but his – giggling in his arms, a vision of angelic beauty in his embrace – and he caught himself laughing with you, in nothing but pure bliss. As he let you down just as gently, his touch lingered – he didn’t want to let you go for one second.

Squeezing his hand, you nudged your face closer to his, beckoning without words; he covered the remaining distance.

You felt his lips brush against your own – top, then bottom, then both – before resting on yours fully. Tenderly. Reservedly. Lovingly. You placed a soft kiss where they lingered and Jun-ho finally let himself melt into you fully, kissing you as if you harboured the last bastion of oxygen in the depths of the ocean, as if you were the only thing on this Earth that he wanted, needed, yearned and lived for.    

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Every Light

Summary: The reader is driving along a long stretch of highway when a mysterious stranger on a motorcycle shows up and decides to have some fun with her...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: This fic takes place post 15x20 (with some canon fixes adjustments). Also, we all know (including Jensen) Every Light is 100% Dean coded, right?

____________

Your fingers tapped against the wheel with one hand, your other hand hung out the window of your car, dancing in the wind. Music blasted through the speakers of your SUV, Ramblin’ Man pouring out as you drove down the long stretch of quiet highway on the bright summer day. The barren Texas flatlands stretched for miles before you, not a single car in sight.

You let your foot go heavy on the pedal, racing across the plains, the warm wind nice across your cheeks. Driving all day from Phoenix to Austin wasn’t exactly fun, but you were in a good mood. A great mood. One of those rare moments of peace and serenity where you just felt still and whole.

You happy little bubble popped when you drove past a crossroads, a slick black motorcycle turning onto the highway behind you. Fuck. It was probably a cop. You’d been making good time too.

You sighed as it came up on you fast, tension rising in your bones as you waited for a siren, lights, something. 

The motorcycle pulled up on your side, crossing the dotted yellow line and keeping pace with you. You turned your head, getting a better view of the bike. Okay, definitely not a police officer. Not unless Texas shelled out for jet black racing bikes with no markings. The rider was in head to toe sleek black leather, tight against his body with padding built in you were sure of. You couldn’t see past his black as night tinted visor. He, and it was most definitely a he based on those shoulders, turned his head toward you before raising his hand, giving you a wave.

You raised your eyebrows behind your aviators. The rider gripped the handlebars again, starting to weave his bike left and right ever so slightly before he straightened again. You tilted your head when he lifted his right hand and signed a simple gesture. 

“Hi.”

Okay…what were the odds some crazed person knew sign language? Probably lower than average and if worst came to worst, you’d just gun it until you hit a town.

You waved back to him, the man sitting up more and returning it. Then he was leaning back even more, popping a wheelie. Your heart skipped as he tore down the highway besides you, only setting the bike down when you flailed your arm for him to get it down on the ground. He finally did so, pointing at himself and looking around when you frowned at him.

“Behave down there!” You shouted out the window, even though he’d never hear it. He simply kept driving next to you, playing as he did so, doing something even more reckless each time he got you to laugh or smile.

But eventually you were coming up on a town and the roads were about to get busier. He made a quick gesture with his hand before taking off ahead of you, getting in front of you in your lane and disappearing down the road.

“Boys,” you mumbled, trying not to think of the last thing he’d signed.

“I had fun, sweetheart. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Six Hours Later

You’d wearily made it to Austin and after a quick shower at your hotel, you headed out to grab dinner at a local bar. 

“Hi,” said a handsome man when he took a seat next to you at the crowded bar top. 

“Hi,” you said politely, returning your gaze to scanning the menu. The stranger's eyes lingered though, your head turning slightly to find a smile on his face. “Can I help you?”

“No, just funny running into you again today.” You raised an eyebrow, the man chuckling. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

“I’ve never met you before in my life.”

“Darn it,” he said, feigning a sigh. “Here I thought I made an impression. Did I not do enough wheelies?” Then he signed, “Sweetheart,” with his hand, flashing you a wink.

Your eyes went wide, the man smirking. “You! That was completely reckless.”

“So was going a hundred down the highway, rebel,” he teased. He turned his body to face you, smiling hard. “You’re telling me I wasn’t the best part of your day?”

“You’re a menace,” you said, picking up your drink.

“And that wasn’t a denial.” He waved down the bartender, pointing at your drink and holding up two fingers. “So. You like me better as the silent mysterious type with a helmet over my face?”

You rolled your eyes, taking the new drink. “It takes more than a pretty face to win me over, babe.”

“How about a ride on it?” You blinked. 

“A ride on your…” you swallowed, the man chuckling.

“My bike. Although you are more than welcome to ride anything of mine you like,” he said. You scoffed, ignoring the fact you hadn’t been with anyone in far, far too long and here was a man handsome as sin offering himself up to you. “Alright. I pushed too far. My apologies.”

“…Why do you know sign language?” you asked.

“My sister in law is deaf. I actually just became an uncle,” he said with a proud smile. “I had to finish up some work before heading back home for good. I’m going be a firefighter actually.”

He looked so…boyish for a moment that you smiled at his genuine pride.

“Good for you,” you said. “I’m just passing through myself. My old friend just had a baby up north.”

“So what’s to stop you from cutting loose tonight? I’ll even pay for dinner like a proper gentleman.” You glanced away, the man tilting his head when your eyes darted back. “I promise to be as well or badly behaved as you want.”

You looked him up and down, the man still sporting those boots and padded pants. 

Oh fuck it. 

“I ain’t getting on the back of that bike without a helmet.” His grin turned devilish, even when you held up a finger. “Calm down, big boy. Let’s see how you last through dinner.”

“You holding on tight?” asked Dean nearly two hours later when you were on the outskirts of the city. Only Dean. Tonight was a one time thing and that meant no last names, no histories, just plain old fun.

“Yeah, why?” you asked when he chuckled beneath you.

“Cause I’m gonna blow your mind, sweetheart.” He revved the engine and took off like a bat out of hell, going faster and faster, so fast your heart was in your throat. “Here we go!”

“What are you-“ You screeched when he popped a wheelie with you on the back, setting it down after only a few seconds. “Dean!”

“More you say?” Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Morning,” mumbled Dean, a kiss pressed against your temple. You groggily opened your eyes, the clock flashing that it was ten. You felt him pull the sheets up over your bare back, Dean running a hand over your head. “Wake up beautiful. You need a shower before you check out.”

“Yeah,” you yawned, sitting up in bed, watching him dress. He smirked as you openly eyed his body, Dean cupping your cheeks in his hands when he finished. “One night, right?”

“You deserve better than me, Y/N. You’ll find him someday. Until then though, just know you are the best I’ve ever had.”

“You say that to all the girls,” you laughed, Dean smiling.

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” he said, kissing you once more. “Careful driving today.”

“You too. And don’t flirt with girls like that anymore. You’ll kill yourself on that bike.”

“Only flirt with you, got it,” he said. You playfully punched his arm, Dean letting your hands linger one last moment before pulling away. “In a another life, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Dean.”

You hadn’t planned on getting such a late start to the day but your night with Dean had been worth it. In a way, you wished you’d forced the issue and gotten his number at the very least. Sure, the motorcycle ride and sex were great but he was good company, funny and silly but something grounded to him that let you know you were safe with him. Eileen was always on you about living a life more outside of hunting and now that you’d officially retired, you were about to start living it more.

Including telling her all about your wonderful hookup.

You pulled up outside a house in Lawrence in the suburbs just after seven, barely up the front steps before the front door opened and Eileen hopped out, pulling you into a big hug.

“I missed you too,” you laughed, giving her a big squeeze, holding on tight. While you’d talked, you hadn’t been able to see her in person since she came back from the dead and this reunion was long overdue. “Come on, let me see the baby.”

“He just went down for bedtime. But he will happily see you in the morning,” she said, taking your hand and dragging you inside. “We just got the grill going out back.”

“Good. I’m starving and miss your burgers,” you said, letting her have another round of hugs with you. “Well if I can’t see the babe yet, you gotta let me meet your husband.”

“You know he has a brother that’s single,” she grinned, taking you through the house and to the back deck where a very tall man worked over a grill. “Sam! Y/N’s finally here!”

“Well it’s about time,” he said, picking you up in a hug. He smiled gently as he set you down. “I’m so happy Eileen has a friend in town.”

“Maybe you guys can give me advice on how the whole retirement thing works. I’ve just been traveling around aimlessly the past few months,” you said, taking a beer when Eileen offered it.

“You’ll figure it out,” said Sam, the rumble of an engine on the street out front echoing through the yard. 

“That’ll be his very single brother,” said Eileen. You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, he hunted too! You guys would so get along now that you’re both retired.”

“I’ve dated other hunters and it never worked out, thank you very much,” you said.

“You’re lucky I managed to grab the last bag of franks,” said an all too familiar voice. You spun around, Dean, your Dean from last night, standing right in front of you wearing jeans and a white plain t-shirt. He dropped the package of hot dogs, both of you staring at the other. 

“I told you he was good looking!” joked Eileen.

“You?” asked Dean.

“You’re Dean fucking Winchester?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N, Eileen’s bestie?” You both nodded, Sam picking up the package and looking at you both like you were nuts.

“Uh, do you two know each other?” asked Sam.

“Some would say intimately,” said Dean. 

“We’ll be right back,” you said, grabbing his bicep, ignoring the strength in it as you dragged him down the steps and around the corner of the house. You stared at him, Dean running a hand through his hair. “I thought you were a fireman!”

“I’m about to start my training. I was in Phoenix, cleaning up one last job but…someone had already fixed the sigils,” he mumbled. “You?”

“Yes, me,” you said, closing your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “I worked out of Washington mostly. Eileen asked if I would clean up a sigil on my way down here. I-I’m staying here for a bit to help with the baby while I find a place in town.”

“So you’re that friend of hers…” he trailed off, eyes darting around your face. His lips parted but no words escaped them. An unpleasant crack tore through your heart. Gone was the happy go lucky flirt from twelve hours ago. Instead a man filled with horrors beyond imagination stood before you, a desperation in his eyes that made your skin crawl. 

“You were wrong back at the hotel.” He shook off whatever thoughts were running through his mind, confusion entering the forefront of his mind. “This morning you said I deserved better than you.”

“You do,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m-”

“Dean Winchester. I’ve heard about you. We all have,” you said softly, taking one of his hands in yours. He swallowed, closing his eyes. “You deserve the world and I’m not just saying that because of last night. You more than did your part.”

“I’m not the guy from last night. I am severely fucked up-”

“Oh get in line, Winchester.” He blinked rapidly, brows furrowing. “You think you’re the only one with daddy issues and who’s died and seen the shit hunters do? No, you’re not. There’s plenty of us who have. I retired because of you. I retried because Eileen told me her friends the Winchesters saved us all and I could quit. I should quit. She told me to live my life. So you and me? We’re going to live our lives as fucked up as we are. And last night…fuck, I had fun. You had fun. I forgot about the nightmares and I think you did too. You think Eileen and your brother aren’t as screwed up as us? Of course they are but they aren’t scared to do the hard thing and move on. So why not us too? It doesn’t have to be together but-”

“Shut up,” he said, slamming his lips to yours. It was hard, rough. Something possessive underneath the surface that had you sucking in air when he pulled back, tugging your bottom lip along the way. 

“Kissing me won’t make me shut up, Winchester,” you breathed, Dean ghosting over your lips, cradling a hand against the back of your neck to keep you close. “We aren’t strangers anymore. You want more, you got to give me more.”

“You want a visitors pass to the insane asylum in my head?” he laughed dryly.

“Visitor pass? Honey, I live there, just a different ward is all.” He flashed his eyes open, green orbs hesitant. “I ain’t doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I’m screwed up too and you’re going to have to give as good as you get. I need that. You need that. So either walk away if you just want to be friends-”

“Odds are this crashes and burns,” he said. Your hands slid to his cheeks, smirking up at him. “What?”

“Good thing I got my own firefighter then.” He raised an eyebrow, smiling when you tilted your chin up. “Stealing my moves?”

“Just remembered you were warned, sweetheart.”

“We’re going to work on that self-talk.” You tiled your chin further, Dean meeting your mouth, a smile in it. For the first time in a long time, in years, you let yourself think about a future and what that looked like. Dean pulled away slowly when Sam called for you both, his thumb brushing your chin.

“I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it with some help,” he murmured, trailing his knuckles down your arm, stopping at your hand to lace your fingers together.

Yeah, the future was looking a little brighter these days.

_________________

[4urvalidation]

can you make a story where rafe and reader broke up 3 years ago, but she comes back to Outer Banks only now she has a daughter(who looks just like Rafe) and a husband (Whom she doesn't really love) and rafe still loves her

Oh, why you gotta make the wheels in my brain turn like this 😩 Not a huge expert when it comes to writing anything Y/N related, but willing to give it a go.

Didn't expect to connect to this as much as I did, so hopefully if the inspiration still flows once I'm done with A Case of Limerence I might explore this story further.

As for now, please enjoy this little blurb.

SUMMARY: Three years ago, Kook!Princess and Rafe began a secret love affair that lasted for an entire summer, until her parents found out and forbade Rafe from ever seeing their daughter again. Now, twenty-two years old and somewhat sober, he spends his days working a dull office job at his father's company wondering if he'll ever get to relive the golden days of his teenage years.

That's when she shows up - his first love. His only love. With a husband and baby and Rafe's heart is almost on the brink of breaking all over again until he realizes the kid looks exactly like him.

CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of alcohol and drug use; sexual content - nothing too graphic but the implications are strong; Rafe is not a psycho killer, but a drug addicted fratboy;

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⸰ .° ☆ ° ☆ °. ⸰ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The term Kook Princess has been thrown around a lot in these parts, but no one seemed to be embodying it as perfectly as her.  She was the golden girl; the good girl. With a pair of rich, uptight parents, designer dog and curfew. Never seen at parties, but always invited and if she were to come, she was always quiet, subdued - soft drink in a red solo cup pressed tightly to her lips; her loud best friend never leaving her side. 

Rafe doesn’t know what it was that made him so attracted to her. With her honey blonde hair and soft sun kissed skin, she was light years away from his usual type, but then again, not quite. She was forbidden; out of reach, a conquest if you will and as a man who was never taught the word no, he too saw her as something he simply must get his hands on. 

He spent his days scheming how to get close. They had no mutual friends, she rarely left the house and when she did she was always with her stupid best friend or her parents and yes - Rafe was fearless, but not to the point where he would openly embarrass himself in front of two of the most influential people on the island.  

Days passed and he forgot about her soft smiles and the way those long legs looked in all those frilly short skirts. That is, until fate decided to butt in. 

It was hot - the hottest summer they have had in years and it was his sister’s birthday and he was so sick and tired of her and all her stupid friends but then he saw a glimpse of honey blonde hair and freckled skin and Rafe’s entire world stopped turning. She was smiling: perfect white teeth on an even more perfect face and there were so many girls in the world; so many girls in his backyard in skimpy swimsuits, but at that moment, Rafe only had eyes for her. 

He had no idea she and his sister were friends; he had no idea she even had friends aside from that loud, annoying one and yet, there she was: taking his breath away in a bright red bikini. 

The following events happened in a blur. He had been drinking since 10 am that morning -  perks of having his father and stepmonster away for the weekend - and he’d been laying on his bed, joint in hand when she walked in. 

“Sorry,” Her voice filled his room and only when his gaze met hers was when Rafe realized her eyes were hazel and not brown like he originally thought. “I can’t find the bathroom.” He put the joint between his lips; his limbs limp with relaxation and he wanted to stand up; was desperate to move towards her and feel the warmth emanating from her body, but he was too fucking high for all of it. 

“It’s okay.” She giggled just then and it was the best sound Rafe had heard in years. “I’ll find my way.” 

To say that he was embarrassed was an understatement. He was fucking humiliated and so out of his mind, he could barely think of anything but that. The moment replayed in his head like a broken record of sorts; her soft smile on constant repeat and just as he was about to force himself out of the scenario the door of his bedroom opened again. 

This time she had put on shorts: the tiniest Rafe had ever seen and her bright red bikini was blinding and hot and fuck - she was so hot and he was so gone. He’d barely made any conversation with the girl and he could already imagine their entire life together. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Here,” Sitting on the edge of his bed, she handed him a tall glass of water and watched as he drank. Her eyes were insane; the freckles on her face an array of constellations and she smelled sweet like cupcakes or strawberries and fuck fuck fuck he wanted to eat her. Trace his lips and tongue in the crook of her neck; taste her mouth, taste her skin, taste her …

“Feeling better?” He heard her say, her voice quiet and meek just like she had been all those years he’s been aware of her presence.

“Yeah.” 

Rafe doesn’t remember how they ended up kissing. How the weight of her body moved on his lap; how she let him run his needy hands all over her body and kiss all that exposed skin. His shirt was off and she was practically naked, in his bed - just like all those times he had fantasized about her, except this was so much better. 

His name escaped her lips softly, always in a form of a muffled moan and suddenly all he wanted to do is make her feel so fucking good, she had no other choice but to scream his name. And she did. She was so loud he had to cover her mouth with his hand and feel her lips spread into a grin against the calloused skin of his palm. 

He was bewitched. 

Charmed. 

Fucking obsessed with her and for some reason this perfect, golden girl who could do no wrong felt the same. 

That entire summer she had him off balance; sneaking inside her home; always through her bedroom window and straight into her bed where they made crazy senseless love. She was going away after the summer but Rafe didn’t care. He loved her. Sure, he never made it his mission to let her know this, but actions spoke louder than words and boy did he show her just how much she made him feel. 

He was going to tell her - Rafe constantly made promises to himself but then she would give him those eyes and every word in the English language would suddenly disappear from his brain.

On the night he finally decided to let her know just how fucking in love he was with her, there sat her father. Sternly, with a pin straight back, he told Rafe to leave and never return. To forget her because she had already forgotten him. What they had that summer meant nothing and will remain nothing because Rafe Cameron had no business being around his perfect daughter. 

“I love her.” Rafe said weakly, but it went unregistered. The man didn’t care about that. He could care less about the way his heart burst whenever he was around her; how he was willing to do anything, be anything… All her father wanted was for Rafe to leave his little girl alone.  

She was smart, ambitious -  with a bright future and big dreams and all he had was a bad temper and drug problem. 

It all ended that night. 

She was gone without a trace. So gone to the point where not even that best friend of hers knew where she’d disappeared to. 

Days, weeks, months passed and Rafe tried moving on; dated girls that looked like her and when that didn’t work he started dating girls that looked nothing like her. He drank and smoked and snorted. He traveled the world and caused havoc and went to rehab and relapsed. He made his father proud and then disappointed him again and again and again and before Rafe knew, three years had passed by and he was twenty two and bitter.  

His hair was thinning and he might’ve been a whole year sober, but every now and then he’d be itching for a drink and peruse the liquor aisle wondering which bottle of whiskey was worth enough to ruin his life with. It was this exact thought that had been haunting him one June evening when fate decided to interfere again. 

It was his sister’s twentieth birthday and they were having her celebratory dinner at the country club for some reason. She’d brought her useless excuse of a boyfriend and because that wasn’t awkward enough, his father decided to invite one of their new hires: a software engineer named Marjorie that clearly had the hots for Rafe, but he was far too desperate for a drink to pay any attention to her. 

And then she appeared. 

Her laughter - that rambunctious, delicious sound - was the first thing Rafe heard before actually seeing her. And when he finally did it was like all pieces of his long ago broken heart finally fell into place. Her hair was gold and her legs were long and sure, she might’ve ditched the frilly skirt for a pair of sensible white shorts, but she still looked just as perfect as he remembered. 

His gaze followed her as she sauntered into the room; her parents behind her and a man and a child and there was Rafe’s heart breaking all over again. She hadn’t seen him and it was probably for the best, but then Sarah turned slightly and suddenly, she was all his sister could see. 

Smiling, Sarah had called her entire fucking family over. The scowl on her father’s face was unmistakable and in a matter of seconds there they were: having awkward small talk and introducing significant others and she was married. 

The diamond on her engagement ring was blinding, just like her smile and when she finally looked at him, it was like that very first time in his room when she begged him to kiss her and he couldn’t dare say no. 

“Hello.” She nodded at him like they used to be coworkers, but her gaze lingered - drinking him in like the whiskey he was so desperate to taste again.

“And who is this young lady?” He heard Sarah coo at the small child hiding her face in the crook of her husband’s neck and the word made Rafe sick. 

“This is Phoebe. Phoebe… baby, don’t be shy. Come now, say hi.” The tone of her voice softened and silently he watched her pet her daughter’s head until the kid was ready to face the audience. And when she did, a pair of wide, curious blue eyes were looking straight at him. 

Fuck.

It was like looking in a mirror. 

A tiny, chubby cheeked mirror. 

Even the way their hair was thinning is the same. 

Rafe swallowed.

She was looking at him, those hazel eyes dancing on his face expectedly as if waiting to see whether the realization has hit him yet. All those years ago… she didn’t disappear because she had stopped loving him or because her parents found out… 

She was pregnant. 

He had gotten her pregnant.

He looked at her and then at his daughter…

His daughter. 

He has a fucking daughter. 

A tiny little girl in a baby blue dress and pigtails. 

Their eyes met again and it’s as clear as day - she knows he knows and Rafe watched her answer his silent question with a single, curt nod. 

He is a father.

[loulou-land]

Let's Go Home

Day 8 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | surprise | 2,950 words | fluff and humor | ao3

Its finally done. Yay! Promising myself the next one won't be a long one 🙃

The scent of garlic and basil filled the kitchen as Buck stirred the simmering pasta sauce and glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. He was starting to worry. 

Tommy was supposed to have been home 40 mins ago. He knows LA traffic was terrible but usually, he’d at least get a text if he was running late. But his phone had been suspiciously silent this whole time.

Buck huffed, flipping the burner off and stepping back. Okay, no. He needed to check on Tommy. 

Just as he reached for his phone, the screen lit up. Tommy’s name and smiling photo filled the display. Relief flooded him, but it was quickly followed by worry as he picked up immediately. 

“Babe, where are you?” Buck asked, his frown deepening. 

A beat of silence. Then: “What do you mean, where am I? Where are you?”

Buck blinked. “Uh…at the house. Where you live?”

Another pause. And then a heavy sigh. “Fuck.” 

“Fuck?” Buck echoed, his concern shifting to confusion. 

“I—I forgot we were staying at the house tonight,” Tommy admitted, voice tinged with guilt. “I went to the loft.” 

Buck stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded. “You forgot?” 

“It’s been a long shift,” Tommy said, clearly frustrated with himself. “My brain is in a fog, and I just—automatically came here.” 

Buck exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Tommy. That’s what the calendar’s for.” 

“I didn’t look at it,” Tommy muttered. “I swore we were staying at the loft tonight. Thought we talked about it.” 

Buck sighed, but softened. “Baby, that was like two shifts ago. But it’s fine, I’ll just pack up dinner and head there.” 

“What? No . Sweetheart, I’m already in my truck. I’m coming home” 

Buck clenched his jaw, pressing his lips together before finally sighing. “Alright. Just…be careful.” 

“I will,” Tommy said, his voice quieter now. “And—I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault,” Buck reassured him, gentle now that he knew Tommy was safe. “It happens. Just get here in one piece, okay?” 

“Okay. Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Buck murmured before hanging up. 

He exhaled hard, shaking his head. He wasn't mad. Just amused. A little exasperated. But still, something about this whole mix-up made his chest feel tight. 

It was a reminder.

Of something they hadn't talked about in a while. 

Buck had promised to go at Tommy’s pace, and he meant it. He did. But sometimes, like tonight—he just… wanted . 

But the last time they’d had this conversation, it hadn’t ended well. 

Buck inhaled deeply, shoving the thought into a far-off, dusty corner of his mind. Right now, he had dinner to finish. And a man to welcome home.

—————————————————————

Tommy exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove. His mind was still stuck on the mix-up. 

He felt bad, even though he knew he hadn’t forgotten on purpose. Still, in a way, it meant they'd lost time together. Time he didn't want to waste. 

And, there was something about this entire situation that kept biting at the edges of Tommy’s thoughts. 

Evan had been waiting for him. 

Cooking for him. 

Evan had been waiting at home. 

Tommy tightened his grip on the wheel. 

That was it, wasn't it? 

For months now, the thought had lingered in the back of his mind. How much he wanted to come home to Evan—not just on the nights they decided to stay at the house. Not just in moments they planned in advance. He wanted it every day. Every night. He wanted the certainty of knowing that at the end of their shifts, of every long and exhausting day, they'd be coming home to each other. 

His chest tightened. Because for so long, that word— home —had never really belonged to him. Not in a way that mattered. But Evan? Evan had changed that. 

Tommy swallowed hard. So why was he dragging his feet?

It wasn’t fear. Not anymore. Not like before. 

He’d already lost Evan once because he hadn’t been ready. Because he let doubt and fear hold him back. But he was ready now.

Except…Evan didn’t know that. 

And if there was one thing Tommy knew for sure, it was that words weren’t enough. He needed to show him. 

His grip on the steering wheel loosened as the idea started forming, small and tentative at first, then quickly sparking into something bigger. 

Evan was usually the one who went for grand gestures. But this time? This time, Tommy wanted to be the one. 

Evan deserved to be wooed and wowed, to have something big and meaningful done for him. Tommy wanted to give him that. To give them that. 

A slow smile tugged at his lips as he pulled into the driveway. He reached for his phone, already composing a quick text. 

Time to get to work.

—————————————————————

It had been a couple of days since the mix-up, and Tommy was acting weird. 

Buck noticed it immediately. 

At first, it was little things—Tommy being unusually glued to his phone, giving vague answers when Buck casually asked what he was up to, staying in his garage for long periods of time. It wasn't enough to raise alarms, but enough to nag at him. 

And then the schedule thing happened. 

They were having breakfast, Buck still finishing up while Tommy took his empty plate to the sink. 

“So, since we’re both off this weekend, I was thinking we could go watch this new exhibit that just opened—” 

Tommy hesitated. 

“I might have to handle some stuff,” Tommy replied, a little too casually. 

Buck froze, fork pausing mid-air. Okay…

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just…stuff.” Tommy leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Buck’s head before heading to the bedroom to get dressed. 

Okay . Suspicious . 

Under normal circumstances, Buck might have let it go. ( Not Really ). But Tommy had already been acting differently—distracted, distant in a way Buck couldn't quite put his finger on. And now, he was being all shifty about the weekend. 

Yeah. Nope. Buck’s brain didn’t like that. 

His thoughts spiraled fast, latching onto the worst-case scenario before he could stop them.  

What if he realized he’s not ready for this— for us —anymore?

The thought hit him too fast to contain it. Too hard. And from there it just got worse. 

Shit, have I been too much lately? Maybe he wants space. 

Maybe he’s trying to figure out how to tell me. 

And suddenly, everything made sense. The distraction. The vague responses. The distance. The hesitation. 

Buck pushed his plate back, appetite gone. 

He wasn’t just going to sit here and wait for the other shoe to drop. If something was happening, he needed to know . 

He wasn’t getting blindsided again.

—————————————————————

Buck was not snooping.

Snooping was invasive. Wrong . He was just… investigating. Like a concerned boyfriend, who was definitely not snooping in Tommy’s garage, after he'd left for his shift. 

Buck had a couple of minutes before he had to leave for his own shift so he was determined to check things out quickly, hopefully get some peace of mind and figure out what was going on with Tommy.

He looked around the garage wondering what Tommy had been up to the past couple of days. There wasn't a car on the lift, so he hadn't been working on one. His eyes scanned the space before coming to rest on a stack of papers. 

"If he’s planning something, there’ll be clues there."

Buck shuffled through them, scanning receipts, random notes, and—wait. What was this ?

His eyes landed on a handwritten list:

Confirm rental: Starlight’s Cinema Double-check timing for Saturday night Send final slideshow edits, practice speech about memories

Slideshow? Memories ?

Buck’s stomach dropped . It wasn't their anniversary or anywhere close to a holiday. 

And a slideshow…with memories ? Reflection ? Was Tommy trying to soften the blow?

"Oh my God."

His chest clenched .

"He’s breaking up with me."

He didn’t even realize he had moved until he was already out the door, and rushing to the station.

—————————————————————

Buck paced the station's kitchen, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the oven as the smell of warm chocolate wafted through the air. The chocolate chip cookies (Tommy’s favorite) were almost done, but he was too restless to wait. 

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Chimney said, voice flat. “You snooped in Tommy’s garage—”

“I investigated !”

“—and then found one list and decided that meant he was definitely breaking up with you?” Chimney finished, disbelief dripping from every word. 

“When you say it like that, it sounds crazy,” Buck winced, biting his lips as he turned to look at the cookies through the oven's tiny window. 

“That’s because it is crazy." Eddie called lazily from the couch, not even looking up from his phone. 

Buck turned, gesturing wildly. “Eddie, he’s acting weird. He forgot we were staying at the house that one night, and now he’s being all secretive, and—”

“Or,” Eddie cut in, finally glancing up, “maybe he’s planning something good and you just went straight to disaster mode?”

Buck faltered. “But—did he say something to you?" He asked, hopeful. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “No.”

Buck slumped, disappointed. 

“Whoa. What if it’s a proposal?" Chim interjected suddenly, eyes lighting up. 

Buck choked. “What—no.”

Chimney snorted. “You sound horrified.”

“I just—that’s not what this is!” Buck spluttered. 

“Well, neither is it a breakup, probably ,” Eddie countered, tone maddeningly calm. “Did you ask him what’s going on?”

“…No…I mean not like directly.” 

Eddie and Chim exchanged a look. 

“Right,” Eddie deadpanned. “Because why communicate when you can snoop through his stuff instead?”

Buck groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.”

A pause.

“…After I see where he goes tomorrow.”

“BUCK!” 

The entire station yelled at him.

—————————————————————

 Tommy had been nervous for the past few days, but mostly, he was excited. Excited for the future, for Evan’s reaction to the surprise, for the moment he finally got to show him what he'd been working on, for the hopeful response. 

Still, a small part of him was nervous—apprehensive. Not about the decision, he was sure of that. But about this —showing Evan this side of himself. 

The romantic, over the top, cheesy side. 

They had promised to be honest though. To be themselves, fully. 

And he was sure Evan would never laugh at him, not over this. 

Okay, Tommy was definitely ready to show Evan his surprise. He’d hated being evasive and vague all week. He knew Evan had been worried about his behavior, could see it in the little ways Evan had been watching him more closely, the overly casual questions. But once he saw it, once he understood , it would hopefully have been worth it. 

…Of course, he really should've kept in mind who his boyfriend was.  

“Hey, uh…you know that guy?” John, his friend and the theatre manager, asked casually, nodding toward the street. 

Tommy turned, eyebrows furrowing—only to catch the figure of his boyfriend quickly dashing into an alley to avoid being seen. 

Tommy sighed, long-suffering and deeply exasperated. 

“That would be my Evan,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

John snorted. “Well, looks like the surprise isn't gonna be much of a surprise.”

Tommy shook his head. “I should have figured something like this would happen.” 

“Your boyfriend not good with surprises or something?”

“Something like that,” Tommy said dryly. 

John checked his watch. “Well, I can give you about twenty minutes before the next showing starts. Think that's enough time?” 

Tommy exhaled slowly, passing over the usb drive. “I'll make it work. Thanks.” 

“Screen 2,” John confirmed as he walked inside. 

Tommy took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself 

Then, with an air of long suffering resignation (and maybe just a little bit of fondness), he made his way toward the alley. 

Time to retrieve his ridiculous boyfriend. 

—————————————————————

“Shit, Shit, Shit.”

Buck whirled around, searching for an escape route, but the alley was a dead end. His heart pounded. 

Maybe he didn't see me , he thought, clinging to hope. 

Then—footsteps. 

He straightened up, wiping his palms on his jeans and trying to think. Think of something, anything to say before—

“Evan?”

Buck flinched. 

Slowly, he turned to find Tommy standing at the alley entrance, arms crossed, wearing the kind of expression that said r eally?  

“T—Tommy, hey.” Bucs voice cracked. He forced a smile. “What a coincidence.” 

Tommy raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Then hummed. “Mmm. Is it?”

Buck deflated. “Okay, fine. Sorry, I just—” He hesitated, biting his lip. Then, before he could stop himself—

“Are you breaking up with me?”  

Tommy’s expression instantly morphed into one of pure, baffled horror. “What?”

Buck swallowed hard, his voice smaller this time. “Are you…breaking up with me?” 

Tommys face softened in an instant. “Sweetheart, no .” 

He closed the distance between them, pulling Buck into a firm hug. Buck exhaled shakily, melting into him.

“Is that what you've been thinking?” Tommy asked, voice low and gentle. 

Buck nodded against his shoulder, gripping the back of Tommy’s jacket. 

Tommy sighed, pulling back just enough to cradle Buck’s face in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Evan, baby , no. That’s not it at all. I had a surprise for you. A good one. Or well…I hope it’s good.” 

Buck blinked, surprised to find Tommy looking nervous now. 

Buck instinctively covered Tommy’s hands with his own, squeezing gently. 

Tommy stopped talking and looked at him. 

“...Come with me? He asked softly. 

Buck briefly hesitated, the weight of his earlier fears still lingering in his chest. But curiosity was quickly overtaking it. 

Tommy smiled, lacing their fingers together.

—————————————————————

Buck followed Tommy inside, taking in the space. 

The small cinema was charming, with warm lighting and a cozy feel. It smelled faintly of buttered popcorn. 

They entered one of the screening rooms. It was completely empty—the massive screen already lit up with a paused presentation. 

It had pictures of them on the slide. 

Tommy? Buck asked, confused. 

Tommy exhaled, stepping forward. “So…the other night, with the house mix-up, I keep thinking. And I realized something.” He gulped. 

He sent a quick signal to the projector booth. 

The slideshow started. 

Buck’s breath cough as their life together so far, unfolded before him. 

Photos of them laughing. Cooking. Tangled together in bed on lazy Sunday mornings. Little candid moments—Evan’s concentrated frown when he worked on crossword puzzles, Tommy’s soft smile when he thought no one was looking. 

Interspersed were quotes—some dryly teasing, some sentimental. 

“Evan, I could watch you drool into my pillow for the rest of my life.” 

Then:  

“Turns out, home isn't a place at all.” 

Buck’s heart clenched. His throat tightened. 

His hand blindly reached for Tommy’s. 

Tommy squeezed back, firm and steady. 

Then the final slide appeared. 

A picture Buck knew instantly. 

The sun was setting, golden light spilling over everything, the house looking warm and inviting and the two of them, standing right in front of it. 

Buck, Chim and Eddie had been helping Tommy fix something on the roof that day. Buck had scrambled a quick dinner for them and he had just called them in for it.

And, Tommy had run straight to him, kissing him like he hadn't seen Buck in days. 

Eddie had snapped the picture at that exact moment.  

Buck remembered laughing into the kiss, the warmth of Tommy’s hands framing his face, the distant sound of Chim yelling, “Get a room!” 

The slide faded into darkness. 

Buck turned to Tommy, eyes shining, tears slipping down his face. 

Tommy inhaled sharply. “Oh, love .” He reached out, cupping Buck’s face, wiping the tears with his thumbs. 

“I’m okay,” Buck promised, voice wobbly. “I just—no one’s ever done something like this for me.” His breath hitched. “No one’s ever shown me…”

He trailed off, trying to hold himself together, to breathe through the overwhelming emotion in his chest. 

Tommy’s gaze softened, and he smiled, pressing their foreheads together. “Evan. Baby . You don't have to thank me. You deserve this. And so much more.” 

Tommy took a deep breath, hand slipping to Buck’s neck. 

“...Move in with me.” 

Buck’s breath caught. 

His heart stopped. 

“...Wh—what?” he whispered. 

Tommy smiled, warm and so sure. “You said it once—why be apart when we could be together? I wasn't ready then. But I am now.” His fingers traced lightly over Buck’s jaw, grounding him. “That slideshow? Every single one of those pictures, those memories—that's me telling you how happy I am. Every second I’m with you. And when I'm not?” His voice dropped, quiet but so certain. “I'm still thinking of you.” 

Buck broke. 

A small, broken noise escaped him, and he was nodding before he could even find the words.  

“Yes,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Then stronger—Brighter. “Yes.” 

Tommy’s lips parted, like he hadn't fully expected the answer, like it still surprised him. 

Buck laughed at the thought. God, what a pair we make.

And then, before Tommy could respond, Buck surged forward, crashing their mouths together in a kiss that was all yes . 

Tommy made a surprised noise but melted into it instantly, strong arms wrapping tight around Buck’s waist, holding him there, 

When they finally pulled apart, slightly breathless, they just stared at each other. 

Grinning. 

Giddy. 

In Love. 

Then Tommy snorted, shaking his head. “We definitely have to talk about the stalking thing, though.” 

Buck laughed, light and free. “Yeah, okay. Fair enough.” 

He leaned into Tommy’s warmth. 

“But first…”

He reached for Tommy’s hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“Let’s go home”

[choccy-zefirka]

You know when you are self-teaching yourself some new subject and notice something fascinating, and are excited to tell people about it... Only to find out that what, to you, was a super-cool discovery, is banal and boring to people in the know, and everyone looks at you like you have reinvented the wheel.

Anyway, I think Emmrich would not do that to a Rook that is making their first mesmerized steps in a field that he already knows like the back of his hand. Even if they do not have the "excuse" of being a very young student or a spirit like Manfred, they are still learning, and none of their observations or questions are stupid.

I am thinking specifically about my own OCs like Lenore Aldwir or particularly Vitaar Laidir, who had a socially disadvantaged upbringing and barely any schooling, and have to rediscover things that, to a classically educated mage, are such a given, they might sound like they are saying, "Did you know?!!! You can use your legs to walk!!!!!". But it genuinely is amazing, what our legs can do.

[sunshinemoonrx]

Hey There Sure Was A Lot Of International Espionage In The Funny Car Robot Show

AKA Boonboomger overall thoughts!

...it was kind of a weird one?

Like, odd helmet designs aside, when it was first coming out the main reaction was "oh hey, a relatively normal sentai after a few years of out-there experiments". And then it...kind of was that, and kind of wasn't? Compared to an anniversary season where 4 rangers are suit characters, Toshiki Inoue's 50 episode dick smasher, and 2.5D soundstage romance of the three kingdoms for baby, it is much more like a normal sentai.

But then the second half of this show ostensibly about a bunch of racing car drivers fighting a bunch of evil racing car drivers is increasingly about even the ostensibly benevolent powerful in society's willingness to collaborate with evil to squeeze more out of the people, and our heroes fighting the police, the government and major corporations, all while, let's not forget, still fighting the main threat this is all revolving around, which is gay alien Michael Jackson and his gang of evil racing car drivers (although to be fair, none of this would be out of place in a Fast & Furious movie at this point).

This is...more cohesive than it should be--at least, as a tokusatsu fan, I'm more than the usual level of primed to expect serious pathos from a silly car robot named Boondorio Boomderas--but I definitely was more excited about the show early on when it was in full silly baby chaos show mode than later on, as much as I think it's extremely sick when your sixth ranger is dropkicking SWAT guys. But that might be less to do with the tone change itself and more character-related?

Like, I see what they were going for with Taiya. He's kind of aloof and catty but with a heart of gold, he's got this unconventional hands-off leadership style where he gives his team a lot of independence and freedom...but they needed to go way harder on either the aloof bitchiness or the supportiveness because it all ends up a bit weak and muddled. He never gets close to the full potential of a tsun hero who needs to open up a bit more because he's also, like, an angelic friend to all children; and if he's just nice with a little sarcastic/soft-spoken tinge...look, the whole "supporting his team by being hands-off and subtly doing things for them in the background while letting them run free" idea is inherently harder to do in a show of this level of writing complexity (low!) than just, you know, showing he cares by having him obviously do things for them, and support them, and be there for them, and not just sorta stroll in at the end like ah! it all worked out just like I thought! sorry I was busy cranking it

So, I enjoyed the early episodes where he was still just kind of a funny weird cat, and equally Mira was so much fun early on. She was doing all kinds of genki red ranger bits, making weird noises, bashing things with the wrong end of the sword, loved all that. And she didn't stop being like that later on, but that stuff felt kinda crowded out by the plot and (relatively) more serious tone, so she just becomes more generically peppy. I think another thing that made it hard for them to pull off the serious stuff is. okay. this might sound like nitpicking, but the "having your own hands on your own steering wheel" metaphor catchphrase thing. I get it, I get what it means, it's a theme, it's cool. but it's kind of long enough that it's not just a word you flexibly throw into a sentence, it becomes the whole sentence, so now when you're trying to recall iconic lines and moments, half of them are just "the time they dramatically said 'I've got my hands on my wheel now'", and it becomes hard to distinguish between them. Scale it back a bit!

With all that SAID I still happily tuned in every week. Even if it was a bit less dynamically rocket-powered, I still like when we're fighting the government. I love Robot Team Rocket (I love Yarucar being a little toy they wiggle around to emote for dialogue so much), I love the world's most pathetically whipped househusband blue ranger, I love all the yaoi between cars, I love the robotfucker secret agent, I love the funny ending dance.

So yeah! It's pretty good! I liked it! But either I think they could have thought out a couple elements better to make it really support the epic serious plot stuff, or those could have not been such an issue if they just went full-on for being funny silly antics car show of all time.

oh yeah hey what was up with the literal plastic disco ball taiya dug out of the ground that was the manifestation of the earth's energy or whatever

[dadsdog]

Kinda vague prompt but can you do some of your ur usual shit but like. In a truck. Like one with a bench seat. I like pretty much all the shit u post about. Js... truck. In a truck.

as an avid truck sex enjoyer, this is awesome ty :] this one's not very forcemasc-y but it's VERY dad/son fauxcest-y

while i'm all for dad/son incest fantasies, i can't stop thinking about a teenage boy, who opens up to an older man (maybe a family friend, a friend's father) about his relationship with his dad. how he was never there, how he never supported his son when he needed it most. the older man comforts him, wraps him up in a tight hug. "hey... you're gonna be okay bud." the boy sniffles and looks up at him, still clinging to him desperately, "thank you. im sorry for dumping all of this on you." he shakes his head. "don't say that kiddo, there's no need to be sorry. i'm happy to listen. just say the word and i'm there."

he starts spending less time at home, and more time with this older guy. he takes the boy to get food, shows him all his old interests, let's him ramble on for hours about one thing or another. and if the boy's father did anything that upset him, he would always be there to listen.

this kid finds himself thinking about him all the time. how wonderful he is, how patient and kind. he wonders what it would ve been like for him to be his dad instead. he thinks about how he smiles at him when he speaks, how handsome he is. he thinks about how whenever they re going out somewhere, he always rests his hand on the nape of the boy's neck. his hands are big and calloused, but so gentle. he wonders why he gets so excited when he touches him. wonders how his hands would feel cupping his chin or petting his hair.

"i wish you were my dad." the boy confesses to him, on a late night drive. he looks down, finds his hand gripping the truck's bench seat. the older man has gone strangely quiet. looking over at him, the boy tilts his head. "what's wrong?" the man feels his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "you shouldn't say stuff like that, kiddo." "why not? you might as well already be my dad, you're the one actually looking out for me."

the man pulls over jerkily, stopping in a forgotten, tree lined road. he exhales heavily, hands still clenched. "hey, what's wrong? did i do something?" he's never this quiet. the kid slides closer to him, and hears him inhale sharply, like the older man had just been burned. "are you ok? what did i do? i promise i wont do it again. please, just tell me whats wrong." he lays a hand onto the older man's knee.

suddenly, the man has the boy by the shoulders, gripping him tightly and pushing him away. he gasps, clearly spooked by the roughness of his touch. "i'm sorry, kiddo. you didn't do anything wrong. it's me." his hands loosen their grip ever so slightly, he starts to rub comforting circles up and down the boy's arm. "you can't say stuff like that." the boy tilts his head. "why?"

he had no idea what to say. because i've wanted to fuck you ever since you first cried into my shirt. because the idea of having you as my son gets me so hard i can't think. because i don't know how long i can have you in my car without losing control and taking advantage of you.

"because i..." he stares down into the boy's eyes.

"you just shouldn't." he starts to break away from the touch, but the kid moves to hold his hand, pouting up at him. "but i really do think of you like that. i think of you as my dad." he inhales sharply again, feeling his cock throb in his jeans. he tightens his jaw and his mind strains with the effort of not grabbing the kid and rutting his cock into him through their clothes.

the kid looks up at him, creeping even closer.

"i love you, dad."

the final shred of self control left in the man is shattered into nothing. he grabs the boy by his waist roughly, and puts his other hand in his hair. he brings their lips together in a sloppy, clumsy, hungry kiss. the boy's eyes go wide and his mouth falls open as he lets out a cry of surprise. this only allows the man to slip his tongue into his mouth.

"wait- mmh!" the boy is pulled roughly onto the man's lap, where he can feel the hard cock pressing up into him. the older man finally pulls away from the kiss and holds the boy's head on his shoulder. "fuck- 'm sorry. love you. god, you're such a good kid. fuck."

he's grinding into the boy's pussy, hissing his apologies into his ear. he can feel the boy take fistfuls of his shirt, gasping and shaking. "wait-what are you doing, please-" "shh. it's okay. you're okay. fuck, i'm sorry- just let me-" his hands grab hold of his hips, pushing the kids small body against his, listening to his shocked moans. the boy is too stunned to say anything, to ask what he's doing, why it makes him all wet down there, why it makes him feel so good. "mnh. shit. im sorry, have to have you- doing so good, champ-nnhgh." he feels the boy lift his head to look him in the eyes. tears are dripping down his cheeks, but his face is twisted in pleasure. his cock throbs so hard the kid can feel his pulse through his jeans.

"feels- nnh! it feels- weird, dad. nmh! dad!" he can't stop himself from slamming the boy's hips down onto his cock. "call me dad. fuck. do it again, son. nngh- say i'm your dad." the boy's thighs shake on his lap. "dad. nngh- you're my dad. mngh! ah! dad- please don't stop- hhnm" the kid feels warmth spreading through his body, and pooling in his stomach. the friction and the rubbing and the hands on his hips are all too much. he feels a pressure building, making his cries for dad even louder.

"ah! nmh! dad, m-my- it feels- nngh! oh god, dad. oh god oh god oh god dad." he feels the kids thrust his hips back and forth on dad's cock, chasing that fuzzy warm feeling in his tummy. "ngh- shit. such a good boy. c'mon son- fuck. gonna make me cum. gonna make your dad cum. nnnh, fuck!"

"dad, dad, dad! nnh! my- it's gonna- oh god daddy! daddy!" the boy doesn't know what's happening. his boxers are soaked through and his head is fuzzy and the pressure in his tummy is too much. he grinds his pussy into his dad's lap hard, in a long downward motion, that finally lets the pressure release.

his dad watches as he quivers, cumming on his lap, completely overwhelmed by the shock of his own orgasm. he watches his boy moaning and crying for him, and feeling his orgasm build, he grabs his hips and presses him down onto his cock, thrusting upwards and cumming in his jeans for his little boy.

the kid collapses into him, panting and shaking, occasionally twitching with aftershocks of his orgasm. the man, huffing and sweaty, embraces him, placing soft kisses on his head. they sit like that in his truck for a long few minutes, catching their breath, before his boy looks up at him.

"i love you, dad."

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Parent-Teacher Tension

Marshall was already in a mood when you both walked into the school. He didn’t love these things—sitting through a meeting with some overly enthusiastic teacher talking about your kid’s progress. But he’d promised to come, so here he was, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, his jaw clenched as he followed you inside.

You, on the other hand, were all smiles, greeting the teacher warmly as you both sat down across from his desk.

“Mr. (Teacher’s Last Name), thanks for meeting with us,” you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

The guy smiled—too much for Marshall’s liking. “Of course, Mrs. Mathers. Always a pleasure.” His eyes lingered a little too long on you before he cleared his throat and turned to Marshall. “And Mr. Mathers, it’s great to finally meet you.”

Marshall just nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line.

The meeting went on, the teacher going over test scores and participation, but Marshall wasn’t really listening. No, he was too busy watching the way this guy leaned in every time he spoke to you, the way his hand casually brushed the desk near yours, the way his eyes flickered to your lips when you laughed at something he said.

Was he serious? Right in front of him?

Marshall’s hand flexed on his thigh, his nails digging into the denim of his jeans.

You, completely oblivious, kept chatting, asking questions, smiling that damn sunshine smile of yours. Marshall loved that smile—but not when it was directed at some dude who clearly wanted more than just a parent-teacher conversation.

When the teacher lightly touched your forearm while emphasizing a point, Marshall was done. His hand shot out, wrapping possessively around your thigh. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. His grip tightened slightly, his thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles against your jeans.

You glanced at him in confusion, but he just stared at the teacher, who had suddenly lost some of his confidence. Good.

The rest of the meeting was short, Marshall barely speaking, only nodding stiffly when necessary. When it was finally over, you stood to shake the teacher’s hand, still unaware of the silent tension buzzing in the air.

“Thanks again,” you said warmly.

Marshall didn’t bother with a handshake. Instead, he stood behind you, his hand sliding to the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to make sure the teacher saw. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, voice low and flat.

The teacher swallowed. “Of course.”

Marshall didn’t say anything else as he led you out of the classroom, his hand never leaving your back.

The car ride home was quiet, but you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on the road.

“What’s wrong with you?” you finally asked, brows furrowing as you turned to face him.

Marshall scoffed, shaking his head. “You serious?”

“Uh, yeah?”

His knuckles turned white against the wheel. “That teacher was all over you, and you just sat there gigglin’ like it was nothin’.”

Your eyes widened. “What? No, he wasn’t!”

Marshall shot you a look. “He touched you, babe.”

You frowned. “He touched my arm, like, once.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “And stared at you like he was tryna figure out what you taste like.”

Your jaw dropped. “Marshall!”

“What?” He pulled into the driveway, throwing the car into park before turning to you. “You really didn’t notice?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “No, because I wasn’t looking for it. And even if he was, so what? You know I’m yours.”

His blue eyes darkened, and in one swift motion, he reached across the console, gripping your chin between his fingers. “Damn right, you are,” he muttered before crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was rough, possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer. When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his eyes still locked onto yours.

“Inside. Now.”

Your stomach flipped at the command in his voice.

You smirked. “Jealous much?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You have no idea.”

And with that, he was out of the car, heading inside without another word.

You bit your lip, heat pooling in your stomach as you followed after him.

Yeah, this was gonna be a long night.

[somepsychopomp]

well. I've tricked myself into shipping Ares/Telemachus now, so I'm gonna make it a problem for everyone else.

imagine Ares post-Ithaca saga, where he got to watch Odysseus (and his son) slaughter 108 screaming, crying men in their own home. That's super cruel and warlike and hot! Sadly, Ody seems to be really smitten with his wife. Now, Ares can transform himself into a copy of Penelope, but he doesn't think he can pull off her mannerisms well enough to trick the little king into sleeping with him.

So plan B. He's gonna court Odysseus' son (who he denies once calling pathetic and weak).

Since trickery isn't really Ares' style, he thinks the much better option is to ride over the ocean in his chariot of charred metal and flames, pulled by his infernal horses with their golden reins in his hand, dressed in full armor as he breaches Ithaca.

Ares finds Telemachus at the most perfect time possible, when the prince is far away from anyone else. What a coincidence! (He def didn't bribe Hermes to give up Telemachus' current location.)

Telemachus screeches as a giant man in a magic chariot pulls up to the fresh mountain spring where he was once bathing in peace. Now, Telemachus just went through his whole training arc with Athena and is in the woods on a hunting trip, so he's more than able to defend himself.

Just as he thinks Ares is about to attack, he lunges out of the water and reaches for his bow and arrows.

A coward's weapon? Ares wonders, sneering beneath his polished helm. Then he sees the spear next to them and he sighs quietly with relief.

"Who are you?" Telemachus demands, nude and sparkling in the sunlight, the beads of water on his skin shining like pearls. He's also aiming his arrow at Ares' forehead.

Cute, Ares thinks. The boy has the build of a young warrior- strong but slender limbs, a narrow waist, some soft wispy curls at his lower abdomen.

He would look even better in my arms.

"Peace!" Ares calls out, though it somewhat sickens him to do so. He removes his helm and offers the young prince a smile, "I've not come here to cause bloodshed. It seems there's been enough of that already."

Telemachus lowers his bow, still suspicious but undoubtedly curious.

Ares deigns to match the prince in dress, his armor dissolving into flames around his body before fading all at once, revealing his flawless, nude form in all its glory. Telemachus' face flashes bright pink, his gaze averting as if he were a little maiden.

Ares cups his face and forces their eyes to meet.

"I saw the way you slew the men laying waste to your home. Not terrible work," Ares says, his voice a low and rough purr like the rolling of chariot wheels across a battlefield, "But you lacked ferocity, and that led to your capture."

Just as it was doing now.

Ares' other hand touches Telemachus' bow, wrenching away the offending instrument, for it could hardly be considered a weapon at all, and takes the prince's hand in his own. Ares kisses the heel of his palm, appreciating the gritty touch of callouses, and offers Telemachus another smile.

"I could show you otherwise," Ares offered.

Telemachus, his face still bright red, gives him a strange look. Too late, Ares realizes that the prince isn't staring at him, but something behind him.

He cries out in pain as something sharp stabs him in the side. He lets go of Telemachus, wheeling around to find the King of Ithaca himself. And unlike his son, Odysseus is fully dressed. (A shame.)

"What do you think you're doing with my boy?" he asks, his voice cold, his eyes calculating. Odysseus hefts the spear, the pointed end glistening with ichor.

Ares is beyond frustrated, but knows the chances of courting the prince have vanished by this point. Now, he wouldn't say no to having his way with Odysseus. Ares did have a fondness for savage warriors, and was admittedly impressed with how a mortal man managed to catch him by surprise.

But it seems that today simply will not be the day he gets to play with the little wolf or his father.

Trying to salvage the last of his composure, Ares leaves them and returns to Olympus where he roars for Hermes. His little brother shows up, kicking his feet with glee.

"Run into trouble again, Ares?" Hermes asks.

Ares grabs hold of Hermes by his chiton, "Why didn't you tell me the prince wasn't alone?"

An eye roll. "You never asked!"

Typical. Ares will lick his wounds before going to Aphrodite. If anyone could offer him counsel here, it would be his lover.

[kashimos-hajime]

—a man | s.r.

summary: "what we need, sweetheart, is a man."

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

a/n: for context, inarizaki is being placed in nishinomiya for the sake of this fic | part of the undateable series

masterlist

The lunch bell shrieks and the students all around give a grumble as they pour back into the class room. You’re in the midst of putting your lunch box away, but the question Mina, your near and dear friend, poses you has your face akin to a woman who’s got sliced lemons wedged into her cheeks. “No, no, I’m fine not dating anyone right now. Akio just dumped me—�� you count on your fingers— “two, or, three? Weeks ago.”

“Ugh, but that was nothing. You don’t even care, so why not come with me?” she pleads, clasping her hands and leaning on your desk. “I promise, it’s not going to be bad. Just one date. A double date. That handsome boy from Kujirami we saw from the spring party asked me out to see a movie in Kobe, and it’ll be so lame if I have to go by myself. I’m sure he has a cute friend!”

“I guess?” Your voice, tinged with doubt, twangs when you wince and you search for an excuse, glancing around the room as casually as you can. The teacher's behind his desk, re-organizing his papers, and you agonize over the minutes he takes. Couldn’t he cut class conversation short, for once? “But I don’t want to transit to Kobe from Awaji on the weekend. It’s so much time, and I have to work. Maybe if it were afterschool?”

“Would Friday work?”

You try not to curse to Mina’s face. “Maybe… but it’s the end of the school week. I’d, y’know, wanna go home. And Thursday is like... we have homework. And stuff.” At your friend’s crestfallen expression, you quickly add, “I wouldn’t want to third-wheel your date anyway. If I’m there, and his friend’s there, we might end up talking to each other rather than our dates.” 

A pout flashes across her face. “If they can't keep us interested, then they’re not good enough for us. Didn't you say on your first date with Inoue-san, he didn't say a single word? And we know how that turned out."

“Well, don’t take a page out of my book. Every time I give a guy a chance, they’re just not…" You don't exactly want to linger on all your failures at the moment. "Well, just give him a chance, and don't look for the bad stuff. You know, sometimes first dates, the nerves get in the way.”

“Is that what you tell yourself, too? 'Cause if you have no luck, I can't imagine what I've got going for me. Ugh, I'm so sick of boys!" Mina shoots to her feet with a new, ferocious light in her stare as she flexes her arm, patting the bicep with a sharp smile. “What we need, sweetheart, is a man.”

“A man,” you snort, laughing. “As if those exist.”

“You never know.” The chair squeaks as Mina finds her seat again. Twisting around, she sends you a wink. “Think about it, won’t you?”

“I will,” you agree. Reaching down into your bag, you feel a shadow fall across your figure, and you crane your head up at the boy standing before you. Suna Rintarou is staring down at you as if you’re the one in his way, but you can't possibly be so, and he's most definitely in the wrong section of the classroom.

“Hey.” 

You only straighten up, withdrawing your English notebook and dusting off your desk quickly. “Hi.” Picking out your favourite pencil, you adjust the layout of your desk, and take a quick sip of water before realizing Suna’s still standing there, tapping on his phone, and you look at him again. “Can I help you?”

He withdraws something from his pocket—a cleanly folded piece of paper—but doesn’t even meet your gaze. A flicker of irritation licks at your stomach. “Osamu wanted to give this to you.”

“What is it?”

“From our volleyball meeting.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“He volunteered you to fill our manager spot since Shiri-san won’t be coming back this year. It’s the form.” 

Taking it, you open your mouth to ask another question but he’s already walking to the back of the class, and you frown, eyes trailing after the boy who sits down and pulls out his phone, already slouched over and half-hidden by the person sitting in front of him. Ridiculous.

With a huff, you face forward again. The paper crinkles as you see your name already written at the top in Osamu’s slanted writing, but the teacher is calling for the class’s attention (of course, now is when he decides that his paper stacks are straight enough), and the idea is pushed to the back of your head with a firm, resounding answer.

No way.

[lin-ay]

English is my third language, German my first and Russian my second. I’m going to try and involve the languages into the story. That doesn’t have to mean that the reader is German or Russian, it just means that they speak more than just English! Tho the reader will not be born in an English speaking country. If the reader speaks in their native language it will be written like this: “{Hi!}”

Please correct me if I use a word wrong, forgot a word or similar things.

~pretty girl~

Part 1

PART 2

Last time:

“Damian Wayne.” His voice was deep but welcoming, (Name) didn’t know why but she felt his voice kind of calming and grounding.

Now:

“It’s nice to meet you!” (Name) stretched her hand out for him to shake, she hoped his hand would feel as welcoming as his voice sounds.

It quickly got awkward as Damian only gave her a side glance, ignoring (Name)s outstretched hand.

(Name)s let out a scoff and let her hand fell to her side. “So… you guys ready or…?”

Jon and Mia, finally stopped talking, apologized and Jon opened the car door for Mia and (Name) to step in. He and Damian went for the front seats, Jon behind the wheel.

“So Mia whose Party is this?”

“Some girl I met when we took a pre course for something.”

(Name) nodded and laid her head on the window, she looked into the rear(?) mirror and catches the sight of green eyes staring right back. (Name) didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, she didn’t want him to think she is imitated by him because she is not. He is just some random, handsome guy who basically shits money.

After a 15 minute drive they arrived at a pretty fancy and big house.

(Name) felt her excitement coming back, just because some guy was not interested in talking to her doesn’t mean she can’t have fun with someone else.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Damian watched (Name) from a distance, as she was sitting on some girls lap, making out with her as she let out moans.

Jon and Mia were flirting like little high school kid, which is not to unusual for Jon but even the usually confident Mia was blushing, stuttering and what not.

Damian didn’t know why people like to party, he didn’t mind it but the loud music and the crowded space made his head turn in a weird way.

His look went back to (Name) again, she was still making out messily with the same brunette. (Name) smiled as the other girl whispered something into her ear. He saw them both stand up and disappear somewhere upstairs.

Damian had a weird felling but he ignored it, he didn’t know (Name) but her bright smile just wouldn’t leave his mind.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(Name) let out moans as the brunette named Lara sucked on her neck and touched her in ways she could only imagine doing to herself.

(Name)s hand went up to Lara’s hair and gripped, Lara moaned quietly and (Name) put her lips upon Lara’s.

Lara pushed (Name) down and they both started to undress themselves. Lara pushed herself between (Name)s legs so their cunts will rub against when Lara starts grinding. When she did, they both let out different types of moans, Lara’s moans were breathy and more like quite gasps of (Name)s name and (Name)s moans were load and she basically screamed Lara’s name.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Damian was sitting on one of the coaches, when Mia and Jon joined him.

“Hey Damian have you seen (Name)? I really want to go home but I can’t find her.”

“She went with some brunette girl, they were making out.”

Mias eyes turned wide and she looked a bit spooked. “Did the girl have short hair, curls, with green earrings?”

Damian’s eyebrows furrowed as he slowly nodded.

“That girl has been stalking (Name) now for days, (Name) didn’t seem to notice so I didn’t say anything but I heard stuff about her. (Name) apparently isn’t her first crush and the last time the girl was beaten up because the girl didn’t want to do some kinky shit!”

Damian and Jon shared a glance as Mia babbled about the stalker.

Jon asked with a hesitant voice. “You’re sure the girl is staking (Name)?”

“Pretty sure, everywhere we go I see her making heart eyes at (Name) and I even overheard her telling her friends how (Name) smelt so good like vanilla and she also said she wished she could see underneath what was clinging to her delicious curves.”

[hazelira]

at least, once

The night air is cold against my skin as I step outside, the weight of my luggage dragging behind me. The streetlights flicker faintly, casting long, lonely shadows across the pavement. Our house looms behind me, silent and still, like a graveyard of memories I no longer belong to.

My breath shudders as I exhale, watching it dissipate into the night like all the words we never said. I don’t look back. If I do, I know I’ll break.

Ni-ki is still inside. Maybe asleep. Maybe awake. Maybe standing behind the door, listening, waiting for me to change my mind. But we both know that won’t happen.

It hurts. God, it hurts.

But love doesn’t always mean staying. Sometimes, love is knowing when to walk away before the pieces left behind become unrecognizable.

I clutch the handle of my suitcase, my fingers trembling. I should have seen this coming—the way the late-night conversations turned into silence, the way his touch became hesitant, the way his eyes searched for something in me that wasn’t there anymore. Or maybe it was, and he just stopped trying to find it.

A tear slips down my cheek, and I let it.

"Maybe you won’t love me again," I whisper into the void, my voice cracking under my heartache. "But at least I got loved by you once, and that was the best feeling ever."

And with that, I take my first step away.

The suitcase wheels rattled against the pavement, a quiet echo against the stillness of the night. Each step away from him, from our love, felt like ripping apart a piece of myself. But I had no choice.

Ni-ki told me it was an accident. That the girl kissed him, that he pulled away. But all I could think about was—what if it wasn’t? What if, for just a moment, he forgot that I was his? I forgot that I was the love of his life, supposedly.

What if, years from now, we got married, had kids, built the future we used to dream of—and he saw her again? What if he still thought about her? What if, behind my back, he met her in secret and whispered apologies against her lips the way he should have whispered them to me?

The thoughts wouldn’t stop. They clawed at my chest, suffocating me. I didn’t want to live a life full of what ifs. I didn’t want to wake up every morning wondering if I was enough. Suppose I would always be enough.

So I left.

And now, the sun was rising over a Ni-ki-less future.

His POV:

The bed was cold when I woke up.

I reached out instinctively, searching for her warmth and familiar weight beside me. But all I found was space.

My heart dropped.

“Babe?” My voice was hoarse, sleep-rough, but there was no answer.

The air felt wrong. The silence screamed louder than anything.

I stumbled out of bed, my chest tightening as I rushed through our house. The bathroom? Empty. The kitchen? Empty. The front door—unlocked.

That’s when I saw it.

The missing suitcase. The empty closet.

She was gone.

A shaky breath left me as my knees hit the floor. My mind raced, replaying every last word, every last look. The way she trembled when I told her. The way her eyes darkened with thoughts she didn’t say aloud.

I thought she’d stay. I thought she would yell, cry, tell me she hated me, but still choose me anyway.

But she didn’t.

I pressed a hand over my mouth, my body trembling.

She left.

Forever.

Your POV:

The morning light creeps through the cheap motel curtains, bathing the dull room in soft gold. But no warmth reaches me. The sheets are stiff, the air stale. Everything about this place screams temporary—just like us.

I pull my knees to my chest, staring at my phone on the nightstand—no missed calls. No texts.

Ni-ki hasn’t called.

I don’t know if I should be relieved or shattered.

Maybe he’s still asleep. Perhaps he woke up, saw I was gone, and decided I wasn’t worth chasing. Maybe this is proof that I was right to leave.

But why does it hurt so much?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push away the image of him waking up, running through the house, calling my name—only to be silent.

Would he cry? Would he sit on the floor, his head in his hands, wondering where I went wrong?

Or would he… move on?

I bite my lip to keep the sob from breaking free.

I want to believe he’s hurting like I am, that this is tearing him apart, too. But I also want to believe that leaving was the right choice.

I can’t have both.

I press my forehead against my knees, swallowing the ache in my throat.

Maybe in another life, I would have stayed.

Maybe in another life, he wouldn’t have let me go.

His POV:

The house is too quiet.

Too empty.

It doesn’t feel like home anymore, not without her.

I sit on the floor, staring at the space where her suitcase used to be. My fingers dig into my hair as I replay last night repeatedly. The way her face fell when I told her. The way her lips trembled like she was holding back a scream.

She didn’t yell, throw things, or demand to know why.

She just… left.

I should have stopped her. Should have grabbed her wrist, pulled her into my arms, begged her to stay.

But I didn’t.

Because deep down, I knew—she wasn’t just leaving because of the kiss.

She was leaving because of what it meant.

She thinks I’ll do it again. That someday, years from now, she’ll be sitting at home with our kids while I’m out somewhere, lips pressed against another girl’s.

And the worst part? I can’t blame her for thinking that.

I never got the chance to tell her—tell her that it was never a choice, never a moment where I forgot she was mine.

Because forgetting her? Impossible.

She is in everything. The way the pillows still smell like her shampoo. The tea mugs on the counter that she always forgot to clean. The way the sun hits the window just right at this hour, the same way it used to catch in her hair when she sat in this very spot.

She’s everywhere. And now, she’s nowhere.

I reach for my phone, my hands shaking. I stare at her contact, my thumb hovering over the call button.

What if she doesn’t answer?

What if she does?

What if she’s waiting for me to fight for her?

I take a deep breath and press the call.

It rings once. Twice.

Then—

"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable."

The automated voice cuts through my chest like a blade.

She blocked me.

And just like that, I know—

She’s really gone.

His POV:

I keep staring at my phone, my mind racing with thoughts I can’t escape.

What if I never told her?

What if I had just swallowed the guilt, buried it deep inside, and let it rot within me instead of breaking her heart with the truth?

Would she still be here? Would she be curled up on the couch, waiting for me to wake up so we could eat breakfast together? Would I still hear her laugh echo through the house, still feel her fingers tangle in mine, still see the love in her eyes when she looked at me?

I told myself that honesty was the right thing to do. That I owed it to her. But now, I wonder—did I just ruin everything for nothing?

It wasn’t my fault.

I didn’t know the girl. I didn’t even see it coming. One second, I was standing there, and the next—her lips were on mine. Everything happened so fast. I pulled away immediately. I didn’t kiss back. I didn’t even hesitate before pushing her off me.

But none of that mattered, did it?

Because in her mind, the damage was already done.

She didn’t just leave because of the kiss. She left because she couldn’t live with the possibility of me hurting her again. Because she thought that someday, I would forget she was the love of my life.

But she was wrong.

I could never forget.

I press my palms against my face, squeezing my eyes shut.

If I had just kept my mouth shut, if I had just held her a little tighter that night and never let her feel like she had to run—

Would she still be mine?

Or would the truth have found its way out eventually, tearing us apart in an even worse way?

I don’t know.

And maybe I never will.

Your POV:

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in my car, hands gripping the steering wheel, staring at nothing.

The bags are still in the backseat, untouched. I was so sure when I packed them—so sure that leaving was the right thing to do. That I had to go before I convinced myself to stay in something that would only hurt me later.

But now, I don’t know anymore.

Ni-ki told me the truth. I didn’t even give him a chance to explain everything, to tell me what happened in full. I just let my mind take over, drowning in worst-case scenarios until I felt like I was suffocating.

And now, sitting here alone, I keep asking myself the same question.

Why do I always run?

Every time someone hurts me, even if it’s unintentional, even if they don’t deserve to be abandoned—why do I leave before they get the chance to fix it?

Ni-ki isn’t perfect. He made a mistake. But I know him. I know his heart. I know the way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing that matters.

I still love him.

I love him so much it terrifies me.

I glance at my keychain, my fingers brushing against the silver house key.

I still have it.

He didn’t change the locks. He didn’t throw my things outside. Maybe…maybe he’s waiting.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the key and step out of the car. The cold air stings my face, but I barely notice as I make my way back to the house.

I stand in front of the door, hesitating.

What if he’s asleep?

What if he doesn’t want me back?

What if I’m too late?

I shake the thoughts away and slide the key into the lock.

The moment the door opens, my breath catches.

There he is.

Ni-ki is sitting on the floor in the dimly lit living room, his back against the couch, his phone hanging limply in his hands. He looks exhausted—eyes red-rimmed, hair a mess, his hoodie wrinkled like he hasn’t moved in hours.

The second he sees me, he freezes.

We stare at each other, time stretching between us, hearts hanging in the balance.

And then—

“...You came back.” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

I nod, my throat tight. “I never really wanted to leave.”

He swallows hard, like he’s trying to hold himself together. “Then why did you?”

I step inside, letting the door click shut behind me. “Because I was scared.”

Silence. A thick, fragile silence.

Then he stands, his movements slow, careful, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he moves too fast.

“I need you to know something,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “That night… I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t even see it coming. The moment it happened, I pushed her away. And the only thing I could think about was you. How much I love you. How much I—” His voice catches, and he swipes a hand down his face. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, my vision blurring. “I know.”

Ni-ki takes a shaky breath. “Do you?”

I nod, stepping closer. “I let my thoughts ruin everything before you even had the chance to explain. I ran because I thought it would be easier than staying and facing it. But I—” My voice wavers, and I look down, hands trembling. “I don’t want to keep running from the people I love.”

A pause. Then, a whisper. “You still love me?”

I look up, and for the first time since I left, I smile. It’s small, hesitant, but it’s real. “Yeah. I do.”

Before I can say anything else, Ni-ki closes the space between us, wrapping me in his arms so tightly it knocks the air out of my lungs. I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat racing against mine.

He’s shaking.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs into my hair. “I thought I lost you forever.”

I close my eyes, holding onto him just as tightly. “You didn’t.”

And in that moment, I know—

We’re not perfect. We’ll make mistakes. We’ll hurt each other sometimes.

But love isn’t about running when things get hard.

It’s about finding your way back.

requested by: anonymous

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

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[traflawgar]

love is in the air

crocodile x f.reader

what kind of date is crocodile planning for valentine's? is it a romantic date? and adventurous one? keep reading to find out!

and if you want to find out what the other one piece men have planned for you, check out the event masterlist.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ event masterlist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

TAGS: established relationship. fluff. modern au.

crocodile - wine tasting tour

The sweet smell of grapes drifted in the air as the vineyard, the third on this little tour, came into view. It was bigger than the previous two and, from what your fiance had told you, it also offered a private experience, complete with a beautiful view of the sunset and a wide variety of cheese and meat to enjoy along with your wine.

Crocodile, one hand on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel, glanced at you analytically. So far, you hadn’t made a comment, positive or otherwise, about how much you were enjoying the date he’d planned. He was beginning to second guess his plan, a feeling rather unwelcomed and unusual.

As if you could sense his discomfort, you shone a bright smile his way, before all but jumping out of the car and telling him to hurry up. He heaved a sigh of relief. One purposefully slow walk and a kiss later, Crocodile was guiding you towards the entrance, a calloused hand placed gently on your lower back.

The hostess that greeted you, upon hearing the name on your reservation, gave you an extremely wide smile, her voice suddenly growing saccharine and high-pitched as she told you to “follow me”. 

The room she took you to had a beautiful view. Grape vines stretched so far you couldn’t see the end. Behind them, the sun got ready to give way to the moon. Orange bled into pink and plum, faint stars scattered here and there.

“Its beauty is almost as exquisite as yours,” he whispered in your ear, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine. He offered you a glass and poured a little wine in it. His hand travelled back to the small of your back once it was free. 

You took a sip, letting the wine sit on your tongue for a second before you swallowed it. A complex mix of flavors danced on your tastebuds, earthy and with a hint of something too fancy for you to articulate. Imitating your fiance, who knew much more about wines than you cared to learn, you let out an interested hum. Upon tasting the next wine, you simply shook your head at its tart taste. Then a frown for the overly fruity one, secretly your favorite, and an appreciative hum for the expensive-tasting one—you might’ve not known much about texture and body and all that when it came to wine, but you could still recognize an expensive one by the taste and your fiance’s reaction to it.

“I like this one,” you admired, fooling no one. Crocodile shot you an amused glance, and proceeded to pour more of the sweet, fruity wine you’d liked. You gladly received the new glass.

“You act as if I don’t know you, love,” said softly and with a kiss on your cheek.

With a laugh, you complained, “At least pretend you’re fooled by my performance, I worked hard to seem like I knew what I was doing.”

Crocodile stroked your cheek, thumb trailing dangerously the corner of your lip. A lazy smile played on his lips. “You’re lovely, my dear.” Taken aback by what you expected to be teasing words, you failed to come up with a response.

It didn’t matter, though. Soon he kissed you so hungrily you couldn’t have formed any thoughts anyway.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@softlypaintedseafoam

send an ask or leave a comment to be added to the taglist!

NOTES: Crocodile is an elegant man, and so he planned the most elegant date out of all of the one piece men.