#I just don’t wanna be told what i should or shouldn’t be doing while I’m literally already doing it

[elysiumcalled]

Me and mum keep getting into arguments cause when I’m overstimulated she doesn’t know how to leave me the fuck alone then gets annoyed at me when I snap (fair) (but like just leave me the fuck alone lol)

[madaqueue]

18+, MDNI - f!reader

sukuna wasn’t a jealous man per se, but he absolutely was possessive - what’s his was his alone - especially when it comes to you. but that just made it all the more fun to taunt him, seeing how much you could get away with. sometimes, sure, maybe you get a little too touchy with random guys at bars just to get a rise out of him, to see what he’ll do to put you back in your place, remind you that you’re his.

“sukuna, what’s the big deal?” you whine as the bathroom door slams shut behind you.

finally releasing his grip on your wrist, he looks at you with nothing short of rage flowing behind his crimson eyes. “the ‘big deal’ is you practically begging that wanna-be frat boy piece of shit to fuck you right in front of me,” he spits.

rolling your eyes, you rest your back against the wooden doorframe. “he’s just a friend.”

“oh, so you get touchy with all your friends like that, hm? put your arms around ‘em, tell ‘em how nice they look in their ugly ass knock-off gucci shirts?”

crossing your arms, you feel the heat of excitement building in your chest - now, it was all too easy to fan the flames. “he was just offering to buy me a drink.”

“oh!” he practically yells, voice echoing off the faux tiles of the bar’s restroom. “well then by all means, go back out there and get your free drink! while you’re at it, why don’t you see if his daddy’s money can get you a new car, or a yacht or something - maybe he can be the one to shell out the cash for you to get your nails done every week, and your hair, and your lashes ‘n shit, because clearly i’m not providing for you enough if you feel like you have to whore yourself out for a fucking $10 vodka cran!”

uh oh. whenever he starts monologuing like this, it’s never a good sign. maybe you pushed him a bit too far this time.

shifting uncomfortably, you soften your tone. “‘kuna,” you sigh, “you’re right, i’m sorry.”

“‘sorry?’” he mocks. “you didn’t look very sorry when your hands were all up in his hair or on his chest, hm?” they should only be on me, he thinks, but manages to hold himself back. “were you ‘sorry’ when you told him he’s the funniest person here for making some lame ass joke about how ‘working class’ i look?”

“look, that’s not-“

“no, no! why don’t you go fuck the trust fund baby and see if his three-inch house-in-the-hamptons dick can satisfy you! i bet they’ve got housekeepers and personal chefs and shit, maybe they can teach you some goddamn manners about how to treat people!”

oh, this is bad. yeah, you went too far.

slowly, you raise your hands to his chest, locking eyes with him as you steady your breathing. “‘kuna, you’re right. i fucked up. i shouldn’t have said that shit, i didn’t mean it and i’m sorry.”

the flames of anger crackle under his skin as he looks at you - god, he wishes you didn’t look so beautiful under the flickering lights in this shitty bathroom, maybe then it would be easier to stay mad at you. “yeah, yeah, alright. whatever.”

but you aren’t done - he’s clearly still mad, so your work isn’t finished just yet. “how can i prove that i’m sorry?” you murmur, batting your eyelashes up at him.

the corner of his lip twitches ever so slightly into a smirk. “‘prove it,’ eh?”

you nod, plastering as innocent of a look on your face as possible, wide doe eyes and glossed lips smiling softly.

“well, i have an idea of how you could make it up to me.”

“anything,” you hum. you just want him to forgive you.

almost instantly, the cool tile floor hits your knees as the sound of a zipper being undone fills the silence. looking up, you’re suddenly face to face with his fully erect cock, a small drop of precum beading at the tip.

“well?” he smirks, “better get to apologizing.”

this smug bastard.

rolling your eyes, you figure it's easier to just accept your fate and apologize in whatever way he happens to see fit - in this case, with his cock in your mouth. parting your lips, you slowly roll your tongue over his flushed tip as he lets out a low groan that echoes through the space. after a few moments of working him into your mouth, a calloused hand reaches behind your head, guiding you further down his length.

“juuuust like that, good fuckin' girl” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he tugs you up and down his cock.

the salty taste of his pre on your tongue has heat building in your core, your thighs beginning to rub together. trailing your fingers between your legs, you nearly make it to your cunt before he roughly kicks your hand away.

“acht - no touching. you're supposed to be makin' me forgive you, remember?” your lips attempt to curl into a frown around him as he chuckles above you. “aw, don’t pout,” he coos sarcastically. “if you wanted to get fucked, you should’ve just asked me instead of acting like some fuckin’ slut out there.”

fair point.

taking in a breath through your nose, you continue working him in and out of your mouth. sukuna was big, and you always struggled to take all of him. sometimes he would be nice and let you take your time opening your throat for him.

but not today.

with one harsh thrust, he pushes himself all the way past your lips until his tip knocks at the back of your throat. a menacing giggle overpowers the sound of your gags as he pulls you off him.

“c’mon baby, not doin’ a very good job saying sorry, now are ya? i thought i taught you to be more grateful.”

with that, his hips jut up again, all the way into you. tears begin spilling over your lashes as you struggle to breathe, but each time it threatens to become too much he pulls back, letting you desperately suck in air.

drool spills down your chin as he fucks your mouth, ravenous and greedy. the lack of oxygen has you lightheaded as thick tears cascade down your cheeks.

but if this is what it takes for him to forgive you, so be it.

the hand at the back of your head tightens in your hair as he drags you up and down, his chuckles becoming more and more breathy.

“fuck baby, m’close, y’gonna take it all for me, yeah?” he asks, mostly rhetorically as you couldn’t answer with the way his cock fills your mouth. all you can let out is a weak whine in affirmation.

with one final thrust, thick ropes of cum shoot down your throat, the salty taste lingering as he pulls out. tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping his jeans, he takes in the sight of you on your knees, black trails of mascara streaming from your eyes, drool spilling down your chin. your chest rapidly rises and falls as you attempt to steady your breath.

reaching a hand down, he strokes your cheek, wiping away a trail of spit before helping you to your feet.

there’s a glimmer of mischief behind his ruby eyes as he leads you from the bathroom, purposely leaving you in this disheveled state. “c’mon baby, let’s go - wouldn’t want to keep your ‘friend’ waiting.”

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 3)

“Truth be told? I miss the times — the me — before I fell in love with you.” 

“You know, I can see myself in, on top of, or under you. What do you say?” “I can see you buried six feet under my very feet if you don’t stop joking about this shit with me.” 

“Was there a point when you fell out of love with me?” “There was a point when I fell in love with you, but never out.”

“When did you fall out of love with me?” “That’s the thing: I never fell out of love with you. You’re the one who fell out of love with me.”

“Right person, wrong time… What if this is the right time? We’re just the wrong people for each other.”

“You have me wrapped around your fingers. Crazy part is, I don’t mind it.” 

“Don’t forget this: I made you. I can easily break you if I wanted to.” 

“I shared pieces of me, with so many people, and none of them kept those pieces safe, and I don’t know if I can risk that with you because it would devastate me if you turn out to be the same as them all. I would be completely destroyed.” 

“Don’t give me that look.”

“You okay?” “No. I need hugs. From you. I need you to hug me.” 

“I just wanna fucking get over you so I can be okay again.” 

“Stop trying to remind me that you’re still in my life. I’m trying to not think about you, for God’s sake.”

“I wanna kiss you so badly right now but we’re in public and I know you hate public display of affection—“ “I’ll allow you to do it this time.” “Wait… Really?” 

“I make shitty decisions and you’re a testament to that matter.”

“I have things to do, and most of them include me trying not to think about you.”

“I’ve never cried because of someone, you know? I didn’t have anyone to cry over. You’re the first, and you’ll also be the last, or so God help me through this embarrassment.” 

“Breaking up with me does not mean you had to kick me off your Spotify playlist, you know? Because damn. As much as I’m upset, your list had some bangers.” 

“You don’t get to do decide my feelings for you.” 

“I’m not bitchless, you fucking dickhead. Take that back!” 

“Every little thing reminds me of you, which sucks because you’re not in my life anymore.”

“It’s kinda weird not seeing your name on my phone when I wake up. It’s gonna take me some time to get used to this.”

“I think I knew this wasn’t going to last when I realised it’s not that I trust you. It’s that I don’t care what you do, and who you might be fucking around with.”

“One text from you has me happier than a child whose mother bought them their favourite candy. It’s not okay.” 

“I don’t share my Spotify playlist with just anyone. It’s like a secret love language of mine, reserved for those I want to let in. You’re one of them, yet you’re here thinking I don’t feel the same way about you?”

“I dunno, I just… Kinda fell for you.”

“You’re the reason why I fell in love with you. You, as a whole.” 

“There are some songs that I can’t listen to anymore, because they remind me of you; of all the times we’ve had together. And it sucks because some of them are great songs. And you fucking ruined them, you asshole.”

“I’m tired of acting like I don’t care, because I do. I fucking do, and that’s what makes this even worse.” 

“One thing you should know about me is that I suck at letting go.”

“So you’re telling me I’m supposed to sit here and give a fuck? You couldn’t pay me enough to do that. I have places to be and things to do.” 

“You need to stop being such a dramatic bitch.” “It’s the only way I can entertain myself, okay? Now piss off and leave me be.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“You deserve someone better than me—” “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“You ever think about how good we could have been together?” “Yeah. I think about it all the time, and then I remember how badly you fumbled. So yeah, good job.”

“You’re blushing.” “I’m not.” “…Then I guess I’ll have to give you something to blush over.”

“I lost myself while trying to find the good in you.”

“I think it’s comforting that they’re somewhere out there… Even if we never speak again, you know? They were a part of my life, even if it was only for a little while. They made me feel good, even if it was only for a short amount of time.” 

“Remember when you said you’d catch me when I fell? Well, you’re a fucking liar. Figuratively and literally. Now I’m hospitalised and also emotionally scarred. I hope you’re fucking happy about that.” 

“If we break up, I’d look for you in other people and be reminded that they are not you, and that I’d never find someone like you again. And… I don’t think I can bear the thought of that.”

“I give you permission to break my heart.” “And I give you permission to end me if I ever do break your heart.” 

“I have things to do—“ “And I’m one of them.”

“You’re only saying sorry because you want to make yourself feel better, so you can go shove that sweet apology up your ass because it doesn’t mean shit. I hope you continue to feel like shit over what you did, because I’m never forgiving you.”

“I had expectations for someone I knew couldn’t meet those expectations, so that’s my fault for expecting anything from you at all.”

“You? Breaking my heart? It’s funny how you think you even have that power over me.”

“You were like a routine that I loved and it felt… comfortable. But I guess that’s not the case anymore.” 

“You fell in love with the idea of someone that wasn’t even real. You fell in love with your own projections. How are you so foolish to think that it would have worked out?”

“I’m fine. Of course I’m fine.” “Everything about this interaction is telling me you’re not fine — not even close.”

“The idea of us was perfect. Blame me for thinking it would turn out into something good and as fantastical as what I made it out to be in my head.”

“Because no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s about to drive me to the very brink of insanity, so if you’ll excuse me for not wanting to be near you, that would great.”

“I would not be who I am today if not for you.” 

(pt 1.) | (pt. 2)

[idontknowanyonesblog]

How I think the bayverse bots would react after having an argument/ disagreement with there s/o

This one includes Drift, Crosshairs, Bumblebee, Hound, Hot Rod and Optimus

Cade calls reader kid a few times but he literally calls everyone younger then him kid so don’t worry😭

Drift:

Drift was stressed. He felt like Optimus was relying on him more and more ever since the TRF came after the autobots. Meditating was something Drift did to calm himself down so that’s what he went to do. He sat on the far side of the junkyard trying to clear his thoughts before you came over to him to tell him something before he interrupted you and went off. You just looked up at him bewildered that he would blow up at you for no reason at all. You scoffed at him before speaking in a hurt tone “well if you wanna be alone then we can arrange that!”. It literally took him like 10 seconds to realize that he shouldn’t have done that but you had already walked away. You decided to give him the silent treatment for a few days. It was hard for him to watch you walk right past him and not even look his direction. Once he finally decided enough was enough he cornered you and gave you a genuine apology. “I’m so sorry my precious flower I didn’t mean to yell at you, I wasn’t thinking clearly but that still isn’t an excuse.” He said to you as he kneeled down and bowed his head in shame. How could you not forgive him? Especially as his bright blue optics were full of guilt. He looked like a kicked puppy. “It’s okay Drift, I understand. You just were really stressed out.” You said reassuringly to him to make sure he didn’t feel TO bad. He still felt super guilty and took you out on a drive through a really nice country area and told you how much he loves you and loves being with you.

Crosshairs:

We all know Crosshairs can be a rude jerk (once in a while tho) so it’s no surprise you two finally had an argument. He just being snapping, rude, irritated for no reason and just overall an asshole that day. “What’s your problem Cross? You’ve been so…bitchy to me all day! If I did something wrong just tell me!” You said in an annoyed voice, finally having enough of this. Your words just seemed to piss him off more. He looked at you and went off about how you never leave him alone and how everyone is always on his ass etc. You huffed and walked away not wanting to deal with him anymore. It had been a few hours and he still didn’t come looking for you which actually kinda hurt. You assumed he just didn’t care or felt no remorse but that quickly changed when Cade came over to you. “Listen kid, you needa go make things right with your hissy fit boyfriend over there cus apparently you two got in a fight and now he won’t talk to anyone!” Cade said slightly out of breath from running across the junkyard. You were shocked. Not only because of what Cade told you but because Crosshairs literally never told anyone anything so it was a bit of a surprise he told Cade you guys had an argument. You sighed and went to look for him and when you finally found him he was facing away from everyone with his arms crossed like a child that had just been sent to time out. It was actually kinda funny but this wasn’t the time to laugh. “Crosshairs…I’m sorry that I said you were acting bitchy. I-I didn’t mean to say it like that, I just wanted to find out why you were so rude to me today…” You said in a soft voice as you stepped closer to him. “No, it’s fine. I’m the one who should be apologizing, I didn’t mean to yell at you love.” He sighed and turned to look at you. You smiled at him and walked up to him. He picked you up and placed you on his shoulder and proceeded to tell you how much he loved you for the next 10 minutes.

Bumblebee:

Arguments with Bee were extremely rare like EXTREMELY rare, but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen from time to time. It was late when the two of you got back to the junkyard and to say you were pretty pissed was an understatement. He was being reckless and dangerous with you so you scolded him (and yelled in a very angry manner at him) until your throat was sore. He made a sad little wiring sound and slumped forward, clearly ashamed of himself. You left without saying a word. You woke up the next morning to the sound of something tapping on your window. You groaned and got up to open the curtains and when you did you saw Bee kneeled down and tapping at your window. You sighed and went outside so you could see him fully. You put your hands on your hips as he looked down at you with his light baby blue optics. “Bee listen, I-“ before you could finish he cut you off with a static sound. A few moments later the lyrics to careless whisper started to play out of his radio.

“So I'm never gonna dance again the way I danced with you~

Never without your love~

Tonight the music seems so loud

I wish that we could lose this crowd~”

A small laugh escaped your lips and you let out a little smile at him. You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “Okay okay, I forgive you Bee!” You chuckled lightly. “Good-I love you” his radio buzzed out between crackles. Just as you were about to go back inside his radio buzzed once more. “Love me, love me, say that you love me~” The cardigans, nice band choice. You turned to look at him with a large smile. “I love you very much Bee.” He made a happy little clicking and wiring sound as he bent down to you. You placed a hand on the side of his muzzle and gave him a small kiss before going back inside.

Hound:

Hound was know for being reckless and making poor decisions and this was another one of those poor decisions. The day started off fine until Cade said he needed him to come with him to check out a demolished town about a two or so hours from the junkyard. You heard Cade say something about “traces of energon” and you automatically knew this wasn’t going to end up well. Hound and Cade left the Junkyard for over 6 hours which you made you worry. A twisted sick feeling in your stomach as you prayed that they would come back unharmed, and well they did come back, they didn’t come back unharmed. Cade explained how the TRF found them and how they had to get out of there. Cade was scratched and bruised everywhere and Hound looked worse than you’ve ever seen. After patching up Cade and fixing Hound they got the scolding of a lifetime. Cade went inside his trailer while you decided to walk away from Hound and settle this more in the morning. The next day you went to go find him and went off about

how reckless he was being. “I just don’t understand why you have to always put yourself in these situations! I-i was worried sick a-and I thought you weren’t going to come back!” You said in distress. Hound looked extremely guilty and regretful. He knew how much you worried for him. “I’m sorry Y/n, I really am! I didn’t think twice about it but at least we got out alive. Damn fleshy no good back stabbing humans…” He muttered the last part. You sighed and looked up at him. “It’s fine Hound, I was just really worried. Just please try not to be as careless next time.” You said softly to him. He met your gaze and nodded. “I won’t, I promise. I love you Y/n.” He said. “Love you to Hound.” you said with a light smile.

Hot Rod:

This takes place at Sir Edmontons castle when Bumblebee and Cade arrive so like reader lives at the castle with Sir Edmonton.

Hot Rod was acting strange around you. Giving you short replies to your questions and barely speaking to you ever since Cade and Bumblebee arrived at the castle. It upset you that suddenly he just stopped talking to you but there was only so much you could do. You decided to take a walk through the gardens to clear your head and on the way you found Bumblebee. The two of you chatted a little bit until you saw Hot Rod in the distance and waved to him. He waved back and looked like he was about to come over until he noticed Bumblebee standing next to you and turned away. So that’s the problem. He was mad about you and Bumblebee spending time together. Bumblebee made a small wiring sound and shrugged as he looked down at you with a confused expression. “It’s nothing personal Bee, I’ll go talk to him…” you sighed and went in the direction where Hot Rod was going. Once you caught up to him you realized you were walking near the edge of the cliff that met the ocean. The sunset casting a beautiful orange glow onto the castle grounds. “Hot Rod, what’s wrong? You aren’t speaking to me lately.” You asked him softly as you walked next to him. “There is nothing wrong Amour.” He said a bit irritated. “Don’t lie to me, I saw the way you looked at Bumblebee. And it’s no coincidence that as soon as he shows up you stop talking to me so please just tell me what I did wrong!” You pleaded in a hurt voice. Hot Rod sighed before coming to a stop and kneeling down in front of you. “I’m sorry chérie, I just feel like as soon as Bumblebee came you stopped speaking with me as much and I got jealous so I stopped talking to you.” He admitted in a remorseful tone. You could see the guilt on his face as he refused to make eye contact with you. You felt just as bad, it was never your intention to ignore him, you were just curious when you got to meet another autobot for once. You placed a hand on the side of his face gently. “Hot Rod, I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was uninterested in you, I was just curious about finally meeting another autobot. I would never try and replace you my love.” You said to him with a soft expression. “ I you didn’t mean anything by it Y/n, it was irresponsible of me to act like I did. I love you more than anything.” He said as he placed his hands around your waist and lifted you up. “I love you to Hot Rod.” You giggled before kissing him gently.

Optimus Prime:

Because Optimus wasn’t really in the last knight that much until the end of the movie I’m just gonna stick with the junkyard for this one sorry guys🙏

Optimus was tired. He was tired, stressed, sore and exhausted from everything. For months he had been protecting the autobots, you and Cade. He had been protecting his friends. His family. You noticed how tired Optimus was and you barely ever saw him anymore. You wished he could catch a break but he always overworked himself. One night he looked rougher than usual and that’s when you finally spoke up. “Optimus, you need to rest. You’ve been working your ass off day and night to keep everyone safe and happy but you don’t take the time to make sure you’re safe and happy.” You said as you paced around in front of him. His deep gravely voice braking you out of your trance. “I’m not a child Y/n, I know what I need and I do not need to rest.” His comment made you clench your fists. You were simply trying to look out for him and he gives you some snappy little comeback. You knew it wasn’t his fault, he was exhausted and obviously frustrated with everything going on. A sigh left your lips as you muttered a small goodnight to him before walking away to get some rest yourself but all night you couldn’t stop wishing that he was at rest to. Optimus watched as you walked away, a feeling of guilt ate away at his spark. You were trying to do what was best for him and he pushed you away. After talking a bit with Cade about the little argument he decided to finally get some rest and deal with it in the morning. Once morning finally came Optimus spotted you walking to the auto shop in the middle of the junkyard. You heard his loud thunderous footsteps and looked over at him, your expression a bit gloomy from what happened yesterday. He kneeled down to you and looked you deep in your eyes. “I’m so sorry for talking to you like that the other night my sweetspark, I didn’t mean to snap and you were right, I do need to rest.” He said in a deep tired voice. He looked so guilty but only sincere with his apology to you that it made your heart flutter. You smiled softly at him before speaking. “It’s okay Optimus, I’m just glad you’re starting to realize what’s best for you.” He nodded and gave you another apologetic look before standing up again. “I must go out with Cade, he needs me for something but I will be back shortly. I love you Y/n.” Optimus said before transforming into his truck mode. “Love you to Optimus and be safe.” You said back to him as he drove off towards Cade. You couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

OK THATS IT BYE❤️

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Mystery Spot | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: so much death. just lots of it. SMUTTTTTTTTTT (18+ MDNI!!! LEAVE!!!), car sex (yum), canon violence, canon gore,

Word Count: 7578

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Sam was incredibly insistent on working a case he’d found instead of going after Bela, much to your and Dean’s dismay. You and your partner were desperate to get your hands on her and tear her a new one. 

However, you decided to humor Sam. 

“I really don’t think this is gonna take that long,” you told Dean. “Should be like, a week, at most.”

You’d found a motel room in a small town in Florida. Broward County was the last place your victim had been seen. You left Sam in the room, and you and Dean went for a night drive.

“I’m runnin’ out of time, though, (Y/N). I wanna find the bitch before I croak,” he responded. 

“Babe, I know. And we will,” you sighed, sadness taking over. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ‘ve brought that up,” Dean said, referring to his nearing trip downstairs.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you told him. “I know it’s constantly on your mind. It’s constantly on mine, too.”

He threw a lingering glance at you out of the corner of his eye before looking back at the road. Then, he pulled off to the side of it in a small clearing. 

“Dee, what are you doing?” you asked. 

Then, his lips were on yours. You let out a small squeak in surprise, but you melted into his kiss with your eyes fluttering shut. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you across his lap. You pressed yourself down onto his hips and began to grind slightly over the top of his growing bulge. Dean groaned into your mouth, and you pulled his hair back to get better access to kiss his neck. He squeezed your ass, making you inhale sharply, and he took the opportunity to push your lips back to his and away from his neck. 

“Back seat,” he growled. 

“Yeah,” you nodded breathlessly. 

With Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” playing in the background, Dean pushed you down into the backseat. Grinding down onto your core, he pressed passionate kisses to your lips. You pulled at his shirt, trying to cue him to take it off.

He chuckled against your mouth. “So needy.” He continued to kiss you while he quickly got his shirt off, and then, his lips were back on yours. He started to kiss down your neck and pushed your shirt up over your stomach. “ ‘S this okay?”

You nodded breathlessly. “Please.”

Dean pulled your shirt over your head, then unhooked your bra, then peppered kisses between your breasts. You tugged on his hair, making him groan. You tried to grind your hips up against him for some sort of friction, but he used his free hand to press your hips down. You whined, and you could feel him smiling against your right nipple as he bit gently on it. 

“Stop teasing,” you begged. 

“All business tonight, huh?” Dean taunted. 

“It’s been too long, c’mon,” you whined. 

That seemed to get through to Dean, and he started to unbutton your jeans. When your breath hitched, he immediately stopped. “Are you sure you want this?” 

You nodded frantically. 

“Words, baby,” Dean said, voice low and rumbling in his chest. 

“Please, fuck me, Dee,” you begged. 

That was all the encouragement he needed. He discarded both your and his pants and quickly sheathed himself inside you. You took in a sharp breath. No matter how many times you’d had sex with Dean, the stretch was still surprising no matter how turned on you were. 

Breathing heavily, he gave you a little time to adjust. 

“Move. Move, please,” you keened. 

Dean rolled his hips into yours slowly and kissed you deeply. This was different than the other times you’d had sex. While you’d had very passionate sex before as opposed to rough or kinky, this was just you and Dean. It was you and Dean in your rawest, most vulnerable forms. 

Before Dean, the phrase “love making” made you cringe. Now, you knew what it felt like. The kind of love you and Dean had for each other was the love you’d been searching for all your life. As a little girl, Disney princess movies had always been fun for you to watch, but you weren’t sure you wanted such a mushy, fluffy love. As you got older, you read about Mr. Darcy and the way he loved Elizabeth. That was the kind of love you were searching for. And, in his own way, Dean loved you just as powerfully. With each deep thrust of his hips, he was proving it to you. 

When you’d both cum, Dean laid on top your bare chest. The two of you just allowed time to pass as rain started to patter against the windows of the Impala and the Metallica cassette tape came to an end. 

Despite Dean’s avoidance to verbally telling you he loved you, you found him showing you more and more frequently as of late. Whether it be the extra time he took to make sure you were okay on hunts, his protectiveness, or those secrets he’d gotten better and better at sharing with you, there was no doubt in your mind Dean loved you. He would clean your guns without you asking, sharpen your knives, and replace your sets of your favorite black ink pens when you’d run out of ink for your journaling and sketching. When you smiled at him, it looked as though he was studying your facial expression as if to imprint it on his mind. 

You’d noticed him trying his best to tame his wandering eyes and flirtatious remarks to himself at the beginning of your relationship, and now, it wasn’t even a conscious effort. You seemed to be the only woman on the planet in his eyes, which was shocking considering the way he acted when you met him. All these things he did to make you feel more secure in your relationship proved to you how much he loved you. 

With that in mind, you pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head and noticed he’d drifted off. You smiled thoughtfully and raked your hands through his hair to soothe him. 

***

A day later, you woke up to the sound of Asia’s “Heat of the Moment” playing loudly through the radio on the nightstand between the bed you shared with Dean and Sam’s bed. 

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean laughed. He sat on the end of your bed, tying his shoes. 

You pushed his back with your feet still under the covers. “Get your shoes off my bed, Winchester!”

“Dude, Asia?” Sam scoffed. 

Dean hummed. “Come on. You love this song, and you know it.”

“Yeah, and if I ever hear it again, I'm gonna kill myself.”

Dean turned up the volume. “What? Sorry, couldn't hear you.”

You giggled, still trying to push Dean off the bed, and he suddenly flopped back down across your body. “What’s gotten into you?” you asked regarding his bright-eyed and bushy-tailed demeanor. 

“I got to fuck my baby in my baby. What could be better?”

Sam groaned. “Ew, guys. Dean? Shut up.”

You grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Sam. Then, you got up and moved to the bathroom. Dean slipped a hand on the small of your back and came to brush his teeth next to you. Sam took the only remaining spot at the other sink and did the same. In the midst of you and Sam brushing your teeth, Dean gargled his spit obnoxiously. 

You and Sam were disgusted, and Dean did not hide his excitement at that fact. 

Next, you got dressed in the bathroom. When you headed back into the bedroom, Dean was rummaging through his duffel bag. He pulled out your black, lacy bra. “This yours?” he asked Sam. 

“Dean!” you shrieked, grabbing it out of his hands and shoving it back in his bag. 

He laughed before rummaging around some more and pulling out his Taurus. “Bingo.” He got up and headed toward the door. “Now, who’s ready for some breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling lopsidedly, and headed out to the car behind him. 

***

The cashier was talking to an old man as you entered the diner. It was quite small, and the wood paneling on the walls was likely making the room feel smaller. 

You found a booth and sat down, and Dean sat next to you. Sam sat across the table, somewhat between you and Dean on the opposite bench. 

Dean noticed a poster on the wall. “Hey, Tuesday. Pig in a poke.”

“You even know what that is?” Sam grimaced. 

The waitress, whose name tag read “Doris,” came up to your table. “You folks ready?”

Dean grinned. “Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon, and a coffee.”

“Make it two coffees and a short stack,” said Sam. 

“How ‘bout you, darlin’?” Doris asked you. 

“I’ll take a coffee and a short stack, too. Thanks,” you smiled. 

“You got it,” Doris nodded. 

“I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela,” Dean said quietly. 

“Okay, sure, let's get right on that. Where is she again?” Sam remarked. 

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled. 

“Look. Believe me, I want to find her as bad as you do. In the meantime, we have this.” Sam pulled out a newspaper. 

“Alright, so, this professor—” Dean began to read over the headline. 

“Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished,” Sam informed. 

“Last known location?” you asked. 

“His daughter says he was on his way to visit the Broward County Mystery Spot,” Sam replied. 

You looked down at the flier Sam had put in front of you. 

Dean pulled it slightly closer to him for a better view. He read off the back of the paper, “Where the laws of physics have no meaning.”

You snickered. 

Doris arrived with a tray of coffees. “Three coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the—” Doris gasped and cut herself off when the hot sauce teetered and fell off the tray. The bottle smashed to bits on the ground. “Whoops. Crap! Sorry.” She turned around to the back of house. “Cleanup!”

***

After finishing breakfast, you walked down the street hand in hand with Dean. He’d been growing more and more touchy as of late; undoubtedly as his time was drawing nearer. 

A golden retriever barking pulled you out of your thoughts.

You gasped, “Puppy!” and turned your head over your shoulder to look at it. 

Dean chuckled. “What are you, five?”

You shrugged. “What? I like dogs.”

Dean reached over and grabbed the Mystery Spot flier from Sam’s hands. “Sam, joints like this are only tourist traps, right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling, they're only dangerous to your wallet.” 

“Okay, look, I'm just saying, there are spots in the world where holes open up and swallow people. The Bermuda Triangle, uh, the Oregon Vortex—”

You cut Sam off. “Broward County Mystery Spot?”

“Well, sometimes these places are legit,” the younger brother shrugged. 

“Okay, so if it is legit—” you began. 

“And that’s a big ass ‘if’,” Dean interjected. 

“What’s the lore?” you finished, shooting a glance at Dean. 

Dean accidentally bumped into a blonde girl who was carrying a stack of papers and bustling past. 

“Excuse me,” she said. 

“The lore's pretty fuckin’ nuts, actually,” Sam responded. “They say these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend spacetime, sending victims no one knows where.”

“Sounds a little ‘X-Files’ to me,” Dean scoffed. 

You watched two movers try to get a desk through the door of an apartment complex.

“Told you it wouldn't fit,” one of them said. 

“What do you want, a Pulitzer?” the other replied. 

“Alright, look, I'm not saying this is really happening, but if it is, we gotta check it out; see if we can do something,” Sam continued. 

“Alright, alright, we'll go tonight after they close; get ourselves a nice long look,” Dean conceded. 

*** Later that night, you did just as Dean said. The man in question was shining his flashlight around the glow-in-the-dark objects. Just as he’d said, there were various pieces of furniture nailed to the ceiling. “Wow, uncanny,” he commented. Dean moved his flashlight in your direction where you inspected a lamp at an angle to the floor. “Find anything?”

“No. Sammy?”

He held an unresponsive EMF meter. “No.”

“You have any idea what you're looking for?” Dean questioned his brother. 

“Uh…” Sam trailed off. “Yeah.”

You shot Sam a look. 

“No,” he admitted. 

You shook your head, smiling a bit. 

Suddenly, a gun was pointing directly at your forehead. “What the hell are you doing here?” the voice behind the gun questioned angrily. He appeared to be the owner of the Mystery Spot. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Dean said, holding his hands up in surrender. The owner moved his gun to point it at Dean. 

“We can explain,” the older brother continued. 

“You robbing me?!” the man shouted. 

“Nobody’s robbing you, I swear,” you said. 

“Don’t move!” the owner roared. 

“Just putting the gun down,” Dean explained, moving very slowly. 

The owner fired unexpectedly, and you shrieked in surprise. “Dean!” You rushed to his side as he fell to the ground, breathing laboriously. 

“Oh, my god. Dean!” you cried, his breaths becoming more and more choked. 

“Hey!” Sam shouted at the owner. “Call 9-1-1!”

“I—I didn't mean to—”

You cut the man off. “Now!” The owner left. 

You cradled Dean’s head in your lap. “Oh, my god. Not like this, please…” Tears welled in your eyes. “Not yet.”

Dean choked out one last breath, and then he went still; his eyes closed. 

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his. 

“Heat of the moment,” you heard Asia singing. 

Confused, your eyes snapped open.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean laughed. He sat on the end of your bed, tying his shoes. 

Dean looked to Sam, waiting for a reaction. “Dude. Asia.”

You shot up and looked over at the younger Winchester for any validation that you weren’t going crazy. 

He seemed confused, too. “Dean?”

Okay, so maybe you weren’t alone in this. 

Dean hummed. “Come on. You love this song, and you know it.” He grooved along to the song just as he had— yesterday? In your dream?— you weren’t sure. 

Then, you got up and moved to the bathroom. You just needed to get away and try to come to grips with what was happening. Next, Dean slipped a hand on the small of your back and came to brush his teeth next to you. Sam took the only remaining spot at the other sink and did the same. In the midst of you and Sam brushing your teeth, Dean gargled his spit obnoxiously. 

Noticing that you and Sam had no reaction, he deflated and spit. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you and Sam responded in unison. 

“Just had a weird dream, that’s all,” you said. 

Sam shot you a curious look. “Me, too.”

Dean looked between the two of you, expression somewhere between confusion and upset. “Clowns or midgets?” Dean asked. 

You rolled your eyes. Next, you got dressed in the bathroom. When you headed back into the bedroom, Dean was rummaging through his duffel bag. He pulled out your black, lacy bra. “This yours?” he asked Sam. 

“Dean!” you shrieked, grabbing it out of his hands and shoving it back in his bag. 

He laughed before rummaging around some more and pulling out his Taurus. “Bingo.” He got up and headed toward the door. “Now, who’s ready for some breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes and headed out to the car behind him. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N), wait,” Sam called after you. 

You stopped just before the door. 

“You—”

You nodded. “It’s like de ja vu, man, it’s weird.”

“What the hell is happening?” Sam asked. 

***

The cashier was talking to an old man as you entered the diner. It was quite small, and the wood paneling on the walls was likely making the room feel smaller; just like yesterday. 

You found a booth and sat down, and Dean sat next to you. Sam sat across the table, somewhat between you and Dean on the opposite bench. 

Dean noticed a poster on the wall. “Hey, Tuesday. Pig in a poke.”

“It’s Tuesday?!” you and Sam asked in surprise. 

Dean looked between you and Sam. “Yeah…?”

The waitress, whose name tag read “Doris,” came up to your table. “You folks ready?”

Dean grinned. “Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon, and a coffee.”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” said Sam. 

“Let me know if you change your mind. How ‘bout you, darlin’?” Doris asked you. 

“I’ll take a coffee and a short stack. Thanks,” you smiled uncomfortably. 

“You got it,” Doris nodded. 

“I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela,” Dean said quietly. 

You stared after Doris, and Dean snapped his fingers in front of your face. “You guys with me?”

You shook your head. “You really don’t… remember any of this?” 

“Remember what?” he asked. 

“This,” Sam began. “Today. Like it's— like it's happened before?”

“You mean like déjà vu?” Dean asked. 

“No, I mean like, like it's really happened before,” Sam replied. 

“Yeah. Like déjà vu.”

“No, Dee,” you said. “What he’s saying is, it feels like we’re living yesterday all over again.”

“Okay, how is that not dé—”

Sam angrily cut his brother off. “Don't, don't say it! Just don't even—”

Doris came back to the table with a tray with two coffees and a hot sauce. “Two coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the—oops! Crap!” Sam caught the hot sauce bottle as it fell, and he seemed a little stunned by his own action. 

Doris gasped. “Thanks.” She put down the bottle and left. 

Dean looked confused. “Nice reflexes.”

You and Sam were frustrated, and you just stared down at the steaming coffee in front of you. 

***

After finishing breakfast, you walked down the street hand in hand with Dean. 

A golden retriever barking pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned to look at it as you passed. 

“Guys, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Dean sighed. 

“Okay, look,” Sam huffed. “Yesterday was Tuesday, right? But today is Tuesday too.”

“Yeah. No. Good. You're totally balanced,” Dean deadpanned. 

“Why don’t you believe us, Dean?” you asked, frustrated with the whole situation. 

Dean laughed as he collided with the blonde girl holding papers and bustling past yet again. 

“Excuse me,” she said. 

“Look, I'm just saying that it's crazy, you know, I mean, even for us crazy. ‘Dingo ate my baby’ crazy. Hey, maybe it was another of your psychic premonitions.” Dean was clearly reaching. 

“How does that explain me, then?” you challenged. 

“I— I don’t know,” Dean sighed. “You’re—”

“Careful,” you warned. 

Dean closed his mouth at your firm stare. 

“Listen, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then—” Sam cut himself off. 

“And then what?” Dean prompted. 

Sam paused, appearing as if he didn’t want to say. “Then, I woke up.”

You watched two movers try to get a desk through the door of an apartment complex.

“Told you it wouldn't fit,” one of them said. 

“What do you want, a Pulitzer?” the other replied.

Sam snapped his fingers at you. “Wait a minute! The Mystery Spot. You think maybe it— “ The younger brother cut himself off again. 

“Maybe what?” Dean asked. 

“We gotta check that place out. Look, just – go with me on this, okay?” Sam said. 

“I agree,” you added. 

“Alright, alright, we'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look,” Dean conceded. 

Sam stopped in his tracks, as did you. 

“No, no,” you rushed out. 

“Wait, what?” Sam exclaimed simultaneously. “No!”

“Whoa,” Dean dropped your hand and looked between you and Sam. “Why not?”

“Uh,” Sam thought aloud, “Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours, nice and crowded.”

“My god, you're a freak.” Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Dean,” you warned again. 

“Okay! Whatever. We'll go now,” he sighed. Dean walked a few feet ahead of you and his brother and looked to his right. Suddenly, a car slammed into him from his left. 

“Dean!” you and Sam cried. 

You ran to the spot where Dean laid face down in the street. You rolled his head over into your lap, and his face was covered in bloodied scrapes. “No, no, no, not again.”

Again, you rested your forehead against Dean’s, hugging his body close to yours, and closed your eyes. 

“Heat of the moment,” Asia sang. 

Your eyes snapped open again. 

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean laughed. He sat on the end of your bed, tying his shoes. 

Your heart dropped. 

***

Dean noticed a poster on the wall of the diner. “Hey, Tuesday. Pig in a poke.”

“Okay, would you listen to me, Dean? 'Cause I am flipping out,” Sam said. 

You were flipping out as well, so much so that it felt like your brain was short circuiting to where you couldn’t speak. 

The waitress, whose name tag read “Doris,” came up to your table. “You folks ready?”

“He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee, black. Nothing for me, thanks,” Sam said. 

“How ‘bout you, darlin’?” Doris asked you. 

“I’ll take a coffee and a short stack. Thanks,” you smiled uncomfortably. 

“You got it,” Doris nodded. 

“Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that,” Dean snarked. 

You hit his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

“Quit fucking around, Dean,” Sam groaned. 

“Okay. Okay. I'm listening. So- so, you think that you guys ‘re in some kind of a— what again?”

“Time loop,” you and Sam replied simultaneously. 

“Like Groundhog Day,” the older brother said monotonously. 

“Yes, exactly,” Sam nodded. “Like Groundhog Day.”

Dean nodded skeptically. 

“So you don't believe us,” you said, feeling defeated. 

Dean laughed. “It's just a little crazy, I mean even for us crazy, you know, like, uh—”

“ ‘Dingo ate my baby’ crazy?” you cut him off. 

Dean turned to you sharply. “How'd you know I was going to say that?”

“Because you said it before, Dean, that's our whole point,” Sam responded. 

Doris came back to the table with a tray with two coffees and a hot sauce. “Two coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the— oops! Crap!”

Sam caught the hot sauce bottle as it fell, and he didn’t even have to look at it to do so. 

Doris gasped. “Thanks.” She put down the bottle and left. 

Dean looked confused. “Nice reflexes.”

“No, I knew it was going to happen.”

“So did I,” you added. 

Dean sighed. “Okay, look. I'm sure that there's some sort of an explanation—”

“You're just going to have to go with me on this, Dean, you just have to, you owe me that much!” Sam exclaimed.

“Sam, calm down,” you chastised. 

“Don't tell me to calm down! I can't calm down. I can't. Because—” the younger brother cut himself off. 

“Because what?” Dean pressed. 

Sam couldn’t answer.

“Because you die today, Dee,” you said softly. 

He tilted your chin up with his first two fingers. “I'm not gonna die. Not today.”

“We’ve watched you die twice now, and I—” you grabbed Dean’s wrist. “I can’t do it again. I won’t. Please, just go with us on this. Please.”

“Alright,” Dean nodded, “Okay. We’ll figure it out.”

You rested your forehead against his and nodded. 

Sam sat across from you watching, and Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. He pointed at Sam. “I still think you’re nuts, but we’ll figure it out.”

***

After finishing breakfast, you walked down the street hand in hand with Dean. 

A golden retriever barking pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at it as you passed. 

Dean collided with the blonde girl holding papers and bustling past yet again. 

“Excuse me,” she said. 

You watched two movers try to get a desk through the door of an apartment complex.

“Told you it wouldn't fit,” one of them said. 

“What do you want, a Pulitzer?” the other replied.

Dean’s mind was still racing over the situation, and you could very clearly see the wheels in his head turning. “And you think this cheesy-ass tourist trap has something to do with it?” he asked out of the blue. 

“Maybe it's the real deal, you know? The— the magnetic fields bending spacetime, or whatever,” Sam suggested. 

The older brother tsked. “I don't know, it all seems a little too ‘X-Files’ for me.”

“Well, I don't know how else to explain it, Dean!” Sam snapped. 

“Alright, alright, we'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look,” Dean conceded. 

“No!” you cried, stopping in your tracks. “No! We can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked. 

“Because—!” You shook your head and looked away, unable to finish. 

“Because what?” Dean questioned. It dawned on him suddenly. “I die there?”

“Blown away, actually,” Sam muttered. 

“Huh. Okay, let's go now,” said Dean. He walked a few feet ahead of you and his brother and looked to his right. Before he could step out into the street, you and Sam grabbed him and pulled him back from nearly being hit by the car speeding past. 

“Stay out of the way!” the man driving the car yelled. 

Dean laughed, staring after the car, until he saw your and Sam’s faces. “Wait, did he—?”

“Yesterday. Yeah,” Sam nodded. 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“And what?” you scoffed. 

“Did it look cool, like in the movies?” Dean grinned widely. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “You peed yourself.” He walked off. 

Dean immediately got uncomfortable. “Of course I peed myself. Man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!”

“You didn’t,” you told him. “And it did look like the movies.”

Dean smiled with boyish pride before holding you back while he looked both ways across the street. 

***

“Folks, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. We could use all the good ink we can get,” the owner of the Mystery Spot told you. 

“How long have you owned the place, Mr. Carpiak?” Sam asked. 

“Well, my family's been guarding the secrets here since you don't want to know when.” Of course, he kept up the act. 

“So you'd know if anything strange happened,” the brunet continued. 

The owner chuckled. “Strange? Strange happens here all the time. It's a Mystery Spot.”

“What exactly does that mean?” 

“Well, uh, it's where the laws of physics have no meaning.”

Clearly, Sam was getting fed up. “Okay, like how?”

“Take the tour,” the owner grinned. 

“The guy who went missing, Dexter Hasselback, he take the tour?” asked Dean. 

The owner’s smile dropped. “Uh, uh, hold on a minute, what kind of article is this?”

“Just answer the question,” you demanded, patience wearing thinner than Sam’s. 

“The police scoured every inch of this place. They couldn't find that man. I never seen him before. We're a family establishment—”

You stepped to him, shoving the pen in his face. “There is something weird going on here. Now, do you know anything about it, or not?” 

The owner stiffened, staring at the end of the pen that he was keeping his distance from. “Okay. Look. Guys, um, give me a break. I bought the joint at a foreclosure auction last March, alright? Hell, I used to sell bail bonds.”

You continued to stare him down. 

“Okay, Anne Lewis, let’s get some air,” Dean grumbled, steering you away from the man. 

You weren’t angry at Dean, but you were upset with the entire situation. You shrugged Dean off as you hit the street outside. 

“Well, I hate to say it, but that place is exactly what I thought: it's full of crap,” Dean remarked. 

“Then what is it, Dean? What the hell is happening to us?” Sam argued. 

“I don't know,” he sighed. “Alright, let me just— So, every day I die.”

You nodded. 

“And that’s when you two wake up again, right?” 

You nodded again. 

“So let's just make sure I don't die,” Dean finished simply. “If I make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out.”

“Just… that easy? I don’t know, Dean,” you shook your head. 

“It's worth a shot,” your partner shrugged. “I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight.”

You nodded, hopeful and anxious. 

“Alright,” Dean beamed. “Who wants Chinese?” 

He started walking again and got two steps in before a falling desk crushed him completely. It felt like the air was crushed out of you, and you looked up at the movers from the window who’d dropped the desk. You dropped your head back and closed your eyes. 

“Heat of the moment,” Asia sang again. 

‘I’m gonna go fucking crazy,’ you thought, staring at the ceiling. 

“Rise and shine, Sammy!”

***

One-hundred Tuesdays. You’d been through one-hundred Tuesdays, and there was no end in sight. No matter what you and Sam did, talked about, or tried to change the daily routine, nothing worked. Dean had gotten food poisoning, been electrocuted, choked, been shot— he’d died every way you thought a person possibly could. 

You were so frustrated, you thought you were going to end up dying next by your own hands. 

The cashier was talking to an old man as you entered the diner. It was quite small, and the wood paneling on the walls was likely making the room feel smaller; just like yesterday. And the day before that.  

You found a booth and sat down, and Dean sat next to you. Sam sat across the table, somewhat between you and Dean on the opposite bench. 

Dean noticed a poster on the wall. “Hey, Tuesday. Pig in a poke.”

Sam placed a set of keys on the table; Mr Pickett’s, the man who’d hit Dean with his car on your second Tuesday. 

“What are those?” Dean asked, clearly bewildered. 

“The old man's. Trust me, you don't want him behind the wheel.” Sam’s voice was scarily devoid of emotion. 

The waitress, whose name tag read “Doris,” came up to your table. “You folks ready?”

Dean grinned. “Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon, and a coffee.”

‘Hi, angel,” you said curtly. “How ‘bout you log in some more hours at the archery range. You’re a pretty awful shot.”

“How'd you know that?” she asked, looking both startled and hurt. 

“I’m not gonna answer that question,” you replied. 

Doris walked away from your table, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Okay, so you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?” Dean asked you and his brother. 

“TIme loop,” you and Sam answered in unison. 

“Like Groundhog Day,” Dean said, unsettled by you and Sam talking at the same time. 

“Doesn't matter. There's no way to stop it,” you and Sam said again. 

“What is wrong with you two?” Dean asked, looking between the two of you in concern and confusion. 

“This is the hundredth Tuesday we’ve been through, Dean,” you said. “And it never fucking stops.”

“Hot sauce,” you and Sam stated together.

Doris came back to the table with a tray with two coffees and a hot sauce. “One coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the—oops! Crap!” Sam caught the hot sauce bottle as it fell, and he didn’t even have to look at it to do so. His face was stony as he slid it across the table. 

Doris gasped. “Thanks.” She put down the bottle and left. 

Dean looked confused. “Nice reflexes.”

“We knew it was gonna happen, Dean,” you and the brunet continued together. 

“We know everything that’s gonna happen,” Sam said on his own. 

Dean scoffed. “You don't know everything.”

“Yeah. We do,” you argued. 

“Yeah, right,” the three of you droned together, you and Sam copying Dean’s dry tone. “Nice guess.” 

“It wasn’t a guess,” you and Sam said. 

“Right, you’re mind readers,” the three of you remarked. “Cut it out, Sam.” Dean looked to you. “(Y/N)!” you and Sam whispered sharply with Dean. “Stay out of this, (Y/N).”

Dean was growing frustrated, and the three of you leaned together to continue your memorized conversation. “You think you're being funny but you're being really, really childish!” You paused in time with Dean. “Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and every morning when he wakes up he—”

Dean threw up his hands. “Okay, enough!”

“That's not all,” you said. 

“Randy the cashier?” Sam continued for you. “He's skimming from the register. Judge Myers? At night, he puts on a furry bunny outfit.”

“Over there, that's Cal. He's gonna rob Tony the mechanic on the way home,” you nodded at the man.

“What’s your point?” asked Dean. 

“We’ve lived through every possible Tuesday,” you explained. “Sam’s ripped the fucking Mystery Spot apart, I burnt it down, and we’ve both tried everything we know to save your life.”

“But we can’t,” added Sam. “No matter what we do, you die. And then, I wake up. And then, it's Tuesday again.”

***

After finishing breakfast, you walked down the street hand in hand with Dean. 

“Dog,” Sam pointed out. 

A golden retriever barking pulled you out of your thoughts.

“There's gotta be some way out of this,” Dean exasperated. 

“ ‘Where’s my damn keys?’ “ you and Sam mocked Mr. Pickett. 

You passed him searching his pockets for the keys Sam stole. “Where’s my damn keys?”

Dean collided with the blonde girl holding papers and bustling past yet again. 

“Excuse me,” she said. 

Dean stopped walking. “Hey. All the times we've walked down this street, I ever do this?” He turned to go back to the blonde girl. “Excuse me, miss!”

You sighed. “No.”

The blonde gave Dean one of her papers which you knew was a missing poster for her father, Dexter Hasselback. You’d spoken to her before around Tuesday sixty-seven. 

The dog growled and barked at Dean, and this was exactly what you were worried about. You tried to hold the dog back, but it still brutally attacked Dean. You closed your eyes again, not even wanting to see Dean lying dead on the concrete.

“Heat of the moment.”

***

The cashier was talking to an old man as you entered the diner. It was quite small, and the wood paneling on the walls was likely making the room feel smaller; just like yesterday. And the day before that.  Everything was as it should be, but something was really bothering you you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

Sam typed away at his laptop researching Dexter Hasselback having finally thought to do so when he got the chance over the last twenty or so Tuesdays.

You barely listened to the conversation between the two boys as you finished breakfast. When you got up from the booth, it dawned on you what was wrong. The man at the table next to you had used strawberry syrup. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked you. 

You saw the man who usually sat at that table passing by the diner windows. “He always has maple syrup.”

Sam caught on to what you were suggesting. “(Y/N), you’re a genius.”

“Someone wanna bring me into the loop, here?” Dean’s voice broke in. 

“Nothing ever changes here, Dean,” you said. “Just us.”

“Heat of the moment.”

***

You confronted the trickster, who, surprisingly, was the one you thought you’d killed back at that college. Somehow, though, he survived. 

“Why are you doing this?” Sam demanded, still having the trickster pinned to the wall with the steak. 

“You're joking, right?” the trickster snorted. “You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn't I do this?”

“And Hasselback, what about him?” Dean questioned. 

“That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one.” The creature laughed at his own joke. “Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town.”

“So, this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over?” you asked angrily. 

“One, yes. It is fun. And two?” He turned his attention away from just you to you and Sam. “This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?”

“You son of a bitch,” Sam growled. 

“And my lovely (Y/N).” The trickster zeroed in on you again. “Joke’s on you, too. But you… you’re a lot more fun to push to your limits than Sam is.”

“And why is that?” you snarled. 

“Because you’ll actually give me something interesting to watch. I can’t wait to see what kinda magic you make when Dean goes to Hell,” the trickster laughed. 

Despite how his words rattled you, you kept your face steely. 

“How long will it take you two to realize?” the creature continued to taunt. “You can’t save him. No matter what.”

“Oh yeah? I kill you, this all ends now,” Sam pushed back. 

The trickster’s smirk dropped. “Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear.”

“You’re lying!” you sneered. 

“If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner,” he grinned. 

You looked to Sam, refusing to look at Dean and let him see the emotions swirling in your eyes. 

Sam kept his gaze on the trickster. “No. Easier to just kill you.”

“Sorry, kiddo. Can’t have that,” the trickster tsked and snapped his fingers. 

“Promise me, I’ll be back in time,” Huey Lewis & The News sang. 

You snapped up, back in bed in your motel room. 

“What, you two gonna sleep all day?” Dean asked you and Sam. He stood near the bathroom sink. 

“No Asia,” you breathed out.

“Yeah, I know. This station sucks.”

“It's Wednesday!” Sam exclaimed. 

“Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off, will you?” Dean asked, gesturing to the radio closest to you. 

Sam grinned. “What, are you kidding me? This isn't the most beautiful song you've ever heard?”

“No,” Dean snorted. “How many Tuesdays did you guys have?”

“Had to have been, like, one-hundred thirty,” you noted. “Hey, wait. What do you remember?”

“I remember you guys were pretty whacked out of it yesterday, and then, I remember running into the Trickster. But no, that's about it.”

“Alright, pack your stuff,” Sam asserted. “Let’s get the hell out of town. Now.”

“No breakfast?” Dean pouted. 

“No breakfast,” you smiled lopsidedly, kissing his cheek as you moved to the bathroom to get dressed. 

Dean headed down to the car while you and Sam continued to pack. A few minutes of silence passed between you and Sam before you suddenly heard a gunshot. 

Your heads snapped toward each other, and you were instantly speeding out of the door to see if Dean was okay or needed help. 

You hurried down the exterior motel stairs, and you made your way around the back of the Impala. To your horror, Dean splayed out on the ground with blood rapidly soaking his shirt. 

“Oh, god,” you breathed out, dropping to your knees and ignoring the gravel digging into your jeans. “No, no, no, Dean! Baby, look at me!” You pulled his head into your lap as you’d done many Tuesdays before. 

Sam was trying to close his eyes to make something happen. “I’m supposed to wake up. (Y/N), we’re supposed to wake up.”

Your heart dropped. “Somebody help!” you brokenly screamed, tears pouring down your cheeks. “Help us!”

***

Six months later, you were a shell of a human. No matter how many demons you hunted down, ghosts you’d popped, or monsters you’d slaughtered, you were unsatisfied. 

You hadn’t spoken to Sam in months. You hadn’t seen Bobby for even longer. It was lonely, but you only wanted Dean. Bobby left numerous voicemails, but you hadn’t heard from Sam. You figured he was doing just as well as you were. 

Sam had the Impala, and you kept stealing cars. The FBI was on your tail after St. Louis and Maryland and the bank robbery, and even more so now with your trail of stolen cars. However, you had gotten very good at leading them away. 

No wound you sustained was enough to shake your emotionless expression. You’d become a weapon; a mindless, killing machine. And you could only imagine what Dean was experiencing in Hell. That thought haunted you. You knew you had to get downstairs to help him some kind of way, but you hadn’t quite figured out how to ensure your one-way ticket to Hell. 

Well, you’d thought of a few possibilities, but you weren’t sure you were ready to do something that drastic. 

Another thing you were mulling over was what the trickster had said to you. “I can’t wait to see what kinda magic you make when Dean goes to Hell.” You wondered if this was what he was talking about. Was this what he’d imagined you’d be? Was there a worse fate to be discovered? 

Sleep was not your friend lately. You’d stay up rereading your journal entries from the years you’d spent with Dean and imagine the way your drawings would look in real life. If you couldn’t handle that as it was oftentimes painful, you’d just sit beside the window in the dark staring into the moonlight and imagine that Dean was sleeping in the bed across the room from you. 

A few years ago, you would have made fun of yourself for your life having fallen apart after the death of the man you loved. You were always incredibly independent, and this breakdown would have been incredibly out of character for you to act this way before Dean. 

Now, you sat at the table in the motel room illuminated by the lamplight eating takeout. 

Suddenly, the trickster appeared in front of you. “Holy Full Metal Jacket, (Y/N). Gotta say, sweetheart, if this is you now? I can’t wait to see the real deal.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, unsure what to do in this situation. You didn’t have a stake on hand, and you hadn’t really been paying attention to the trickster recently. You didn’t see a point in it given Dean was gone either way. 

“What, you really thought Dean was doin’ the hellfire rumba?” he tsked. “I gave you more credit than I should’ve, looks like.”

“Wait, this was all a trick?” You stood from your chair angrily. 

“Whoa there, Megan Turner,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sam’s given me a deal. I’m here to put you two out of your misery.”

“Then why come and talk to me instead of just do it?” you asked. 

“Because! It’s more fun this way. It’ll be the last time I talk to you, hopefully. A little sentimental, no?” the creature smirked. 

You folded your arms. “Not really. But what do you want? Why stall?” “ ‘Cause I have a few parting words for you,” he replied. “You were a little quicker on the uptake than Sam to realize that you can’t save Dean from Hell. At least, not before he takes the plunge.” You looked at him in surprise. Did he know what you were planning to do?

���Yes, angelface, I know exactly what’s been swirlin’ around in that head of yours,” he continued without you saying a word to him. “And your little plan is bat crap crazy, but like I said before, I can’t wait to see what you do, kiddo. You’ve always been my favorite of the Three Stooges.”

It was as if your brain wasn’t quite processing what he was saying, and you just kept staring ahead with your arms folded. 

“Good luck out there, champ.”

“Promise me, I’ll be back in time,” Huey Lewis & The News sang. 

You snapped up, back in bed in your motel room. 

“What, you two gonna sleep all day?” Dean asked you and Sam. He stood near the bathroom sink. “I know, no Asia. This station sucks.”

“It's Wednesday!” Sam exclaimed. 

“Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off, will you?” Dean asked, gesturing to the radio closest to you. 

Tears rushing to your eyes, you leapt out of bed and ran into Dean’s arms. He made a sound in surprise but quickly returned your hug with your same ferocity. 

“Sweetheart, how many Tuesdays did you have?” he asked you. 

“Enough,” you muttered into his chest. 

“What, uh, what do you remember?” Sam asked, awkwardly standing near. 

“I remember you guys were pretty whacked out of it yesterday, and then, I remember running into the Trickster. But no, that's about it.”

Sam nodded. “Let's go.”

“No breakfast?” Dean pouted. 

“No breakfast,” you smiled lopsidedly, kissing his cheek as you moved to the bathroom to get dressed. 

“Alright, I'll pack the car,” said Dean. 

“Oh, hell no,” you replied from behind the closed door in the bathroom. 

“It's the parking lot, sweetheart.”

“Just— just trust her,” you heard Sam tell him. 

“Hey, you don't look so good. Something else happen?” Dean asked Sam. 

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment. “I just had a really weird dream,” Sam finally replied. 

You could hear the smirk in Dean’s voice. “Clowns or midgets?”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[writingonleaves]

wrap your arms around me, baby boy - will smith

pairing: will smith x original female character

warnings: swearing, probably the most dialogue in a piece i've ever had, mention of marijuana , boston college (as a boston university alum this is a valid warning❤️), niche massachusetts references, fluff fluff fluff

inspired by + title: paper rings by taylor swift

word count: 5.5k

author's note: hi!! tried not to overthink this one too much because i've been in a writing rut lately and this turned out longer than i expected. i also usually try not to write about the kids or anyone younger than me but i feel like this song fit our fave lexington shark boy and i had fun exploring a college relationship like this. this is for @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy's eras tour fic challenge!! i hope you all enjoy it and lmk what you think!

october 2023

“I think I’m gonna marry you one day.” 

Danielle Layden doesn’t even look up from her notes, unimpressed. “Sure, dude.”

“I’m serious,” She sighs, before putting her pen down and looking up at Will Smith, who’s continuing like he’s just asking her about the homework, which he did about three minutes prior. “You don’t think so?

She blinks, making sure that the professor isn’t in the lecture hall yet. “Will, I met you, like, three weeks ago, while you and your friends were high off your asses, mind you, and you don’t know how to write a proposal.”

“You have something against marijuana and bad writers?”

She rolls her eyes as he laughs. “We have a quiz in 5 minutes. Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Well, seat partner, I don’t think I do,” he says smugly. 

“We are not seat partners,” she drawls out, taking a sip from the coffee that he brought her when he came in, toothy smile making her unable to be 100% annoyed with him. She doesn’t wanna overthink about the fact that it’s her exact order too, because he shouldn’t know that.

“I think we are,” he sings. “Are you coming to the game later?”

“What game?”

Will snorts. “Yeah, nice try. I know you stalked me on the internet after we met. I also talk about hockey all the time.”

“I don’t know what hockey is. Explain it to me again?”

“Smartass,” he mutters as a smile seeps through Danielle’s lips. “So are you coming?”

“Should I?”

“I think so.”

The professor claps his hands and he’s still looking at her, waiting for an answer. She just shrugs. She’ll leave him on his toes. 

The next week, as Danielle’s been learning to expect now, Will slips in the seat right next to her, sliding over her coffee. 

“How do you know my order?”

At the same time, he asks. “What did you think of the game?”

She blinks. “What if I didn’t go?”

“Dani,” he deadpans. “I know you went. I saw you in the crowd.”

“You saw me in the sold out crowd?” She eyes him warily. “I highly doubt it.”

“Evie told me where you guys were sitting beforehand.”

“Evie doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“What did you think of the game?” He repeats with insistence. 

She bites her lip. “You got a goal.”

“I did.”

“It was fun.”

He lights up like a puppy and she can’t help but melt. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nudges his shoulder. “You’re pretty good at this hockey thing. Better than you are at writing proposals.”

He chuckles, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“I’m glad you didn’t lose.”

“Doesn’t happen very often.”

“Cocky,” Danielle observes. 

“Just like you are about writing proposals.”

She switches the subject. “How do you know what my coffee order is?”

“You told me.”

She tilts her head to the side. “When?”

“The night we met.”

“When you were high off your ass?”

“Quiet down,” he scolds playfully. “I am an athlete, you know? Gotta keep up that pristine image.”

She lets out a bark of laughter. “Pristine image? Okay, dude.” 

“Hey, actually, before Langley comes in, I wanted to ask you something.” 

That gets her attention, as she turns fully towards him. “What’s up?” 

“Okay, so, you can say no,” Will starts, which, hilarious way to begin. She tries to hide her amused smile as he continues. “Would you mind looking over my midterm paper? I know you have all your own stuff to do so I totally get it. It’s just, it’s obvious you’re the best writer in this class and I’d really appreciate a second set of eyes like yours.”

A few seconds of silence pass by before Danielle smiles genuinely. “You don’t have to beg, Will. I’ll look over your paper. You only talk to me though. You don’t know that I’m the best writer in this class.”

“I think I do.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she deadpans.

He smirks, sliding his phone over. “Put in your number and we’ll find a time?”

She types her number in and texts herself, “I think you just wanna find an excuse to spend more time with me.”

“Busted. I did say I’m gonna marry you one day.”

“Let’s see what you get on your midterm first.”

november 2023

“Hey”

Danielle looks up from her books at the familiar voice, a bit disjointed because she’s not sitting in Fulton Hall but instead at the library. She takes her headphones out and tilts her head to the side at Will and two other guys right next to him. “Hi.”

“Do you mind?”

She starts clearing her stuff from the table, “As long as you’re not annoying.” She puts on a warm smile. “Hi. I’m Danielle. Or Dani. Whatever works.”

“I’m Ryan, and this is Gabe.” Ryan grins. 

She narrows her eyes a bit, gaze lingering on Gabe. “You look familiar. Have we been in a class together?”

“Maybe? What are you taking?”

“You’re in my Psych class,” she concludes. 

“With Petrovich?”

“The very one.”

Gabe lights up. It’s kinda adorable. “Where do you sit?”

“Don’t,” she says as Will chuckles, which causes one side of her lips to quirk up. “I’m not having a repeat with what’s happening with Will here.”

“Hey now,” Will says as his two friends laugh at him. “Leno’s the one from Amherst, by the way.”

Danielle lights up. “Oh! Will’s talked about you. I’m from Ludlow.”

“Really?” She nods as Ryan leans back in his seat. “I went to Pope Francis.”

“Of course you did,” she deadpans. “That’s almost as bad as St. Sebastian’s.”

Before she can think about if it’s too mean, Ryan has burst out into laughter. “You know what? Smitty should marry you. You’re funny.”

She whips her head towards Will, who looks smug. “Are you telling everyone that?”

“No,” he drawls out. 

“Yes,” Gabe says with a giggle. “I mean, you are the reason Will did well on his paper.”

“I know,” she says wryly. 

“So why wouldn’t he marry you?”

She ignores them and tilts her head to the side at Will. “You know, I didn’t think you’d lure your side pieces into this nonsense.”

“They’ve been here from the start!”

“Side pieces?”

She blinks, before, “Oh! You guys were also high the night we met. You were the friends. It was kinda dark so I didn’t really see your faces.”

“If Coach ever hears you, we’re banned from the team,” Will says. 

“I don’t really have plans to get to know your coach, so you’re in luck.”

“Do you like hockey?” Gabe asks. 

Danielle clicks her pen. “What’s hockey?”

“Don’t,” Will warns as she giggles. “She always does this.”

“What?” Ryan smirks. “Bust your ass?”

“I mean, good,” Gabe adds. “You need it, Smitty.”

She nudges Ryan in the shoulder and blows Gabe an air kiss. “I like you two. Dunno why you hang out with Will though, so that’s a character flaw.”

“Can you help me with Psych homework?” Gabe asks with a hopeful tilt. 

“Of course.”

Will narrows his eyes playfully. “Get your own seat partner, Gabo.”

“As fun as this has been, unless you all are doing homework and can quiet down-”

“Can we join?” Will asks, playful facade fading into a genuine one. “We can leave, but we also did come to do homework.”

She puts an earbud back in. “Be my guest.”

By the end of her time in the library, she’s gotten a cookie from Ryan (“413 have to stick together, baby”), Gabe’s phone number so they can study for Psychology together and smiles from Will that has her stomach feeling unsettled. As she’s walking back to her dorm, she gets a text from her roommate Tracy. There’s a hockey game this weekend. Does Danielle wanna come? 

She gives Tracy’s text a thumbs up.

december 2023

“Happy last class,” Will says, sitting down next to her. 

She reaches out automatically for the coffee he slides over with a smile. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” He teases, but he’s visibly taken aback.

“Yeah,” she reaches into her bag to feel around for the crochet eagle. Once she finds it, she pulls it out carefully and places it in his hands. 

His eyes soften. “You made this?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. I love crocheting and, I don’t know, it seemed fitting.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, clipping it onto one of the zippers on his backpack. She swallows, a frog suddenly appearing in her throat. “I’ll carry it with me everywhere.”

“When do you leave for Sweden?”

“Leaving BC the 13th, so gotta take all my finals early.”

She hums. “That’s soon.”

“It is,” he drums his fingers on the table. “It feels like this semester has flown by.”

“Yeah,” she says somewhat wistfully. A curl falls onto Will’s forehead and she has to dig her nails into her hands to prevent her from reaching up and fixing it. 

He shakes his head a bit at himself, as if trying to motivate himself to do something. “Listen, I, uh, you can totally say no, because I know I kinda forced you to be my friend in the first place. And I’ve been wanting to ask you this for weeks now, maybe months, but I was thinking maybe when I come back next semester we could hang out?”

She teases him. “Hang out? Should we invite Gabe and Ryan along? Maybe Jacob? I met him the other day, you know. He threw you under the bus.”

“No,” he presses and Danielle hides her giggle at his minor petulance. “Just us two. On a date. Dinner and all. The whole nine yards.”

Danielle is full out grinning now. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You’re impossible,” Will deadpans. 

“Yes,” she says, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“I pay. I owe you for all the coffees this semester.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” 

“You said anything.” 

“Dani.”

“Fine,” she pushes a finger into his chest. “You’re also deciding where we go though. I’m too indecisive for that.”

“Of course,” he grins, a slight blush painting his cheeks. “I’ll text you when I’m back on campus?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

january 2024

“It seems weird not seeing you Friday mornings anymore.”

Danielle chuckles as she opens the door to let Will inside. He steps to the side as she slips on her boots. “Not Mondays and Wednesdays?”

“Well, yes. But there was something nice about seeing you to end my week.”

She rolls her eyes. “Laying it down thick right at the start, huh?”

“Well, I would’ve brought flowers to really drive it home, but I remember you mentioning you didn’t like them.”

“You have a scarily good memory,” she remarks, grabbing her bag before they walk out of her dorm, Will’s hand hovering over her lower back. “Where are we going?”

“This restaurant called Seasons 52. It’s a 30 minute walk but we could also drive since I have my car. But it’s also nice out and I know you like walking everywhere-”

She halts in the hallway, causing Will to crash into her. “Will, that’s…a nice restaurant.”

“Is that okay? Too much?” His eyes widen in uncertainty. “I’ve been there with family for special events and stuff and it’s pretty good and I figured that-”

“It’s okay,” she assures him. “It is. I just, you didn’t have to do all that.”

Will shrugs as they wait for the elevator. “It’s not a big deal. You deserve all the stops. Wouldn’t wanna put that outfit to waste either.”

She snorts looking down at the nice brown sweater and jeans she put on. “This is nothing. You look very sharp. Different from the sweats you usually wear.”

“Hey!” He protests as she laughs. “Remember when you saw me in a suit before the game?”

“Yeah. I think I have those pictures on my phone still.”

He rolls his eyes at the memory of him seeing Danielle right before a game as she just snapped pictures of him with a smirk. “You know, the boys gave me crap about that for days.”

“Mission accomplished then.” She nudges his hip with hers right as the elevator doors open. “I know I texted you this already, but congrats on the Gold. My mom was confused why hockey was on the TV and it wasn’t the Bruins. My brother was pumped though. He’s been trying to convince me to get into hockey for years.”

He blinks. “You watched?”

“I tried to. Saw the gold medal match in full though. Landon loved Ryan’s celebration. What a bitch.”

“Landon’s your brother?”

“Yes he is.”

“Hockey fan?”

“Yeah. He went to BU.”

“Lame,” Will says without thinking. 

She laughs. “I tell him that all the time.”

“Just the one brother?”

“Nah. Two younger sisters too. He’s the oldest. He loves it.”

“Your sisters must love you.”

Danielle takes her hair out of her jacket as they start walking. “Why do you think so?”

“I have an older sister. Grace. She’s awesome. Also at BC actually. So I know what it’s like to have an older sister to look up to.”

“I do love them,” she admits. “I think I’m the lucky one to have them though.”

For January, it is surprisingly warm as they make their way to the restaurant. Will has a grin plastered on his face the whole time as he just lets Danielle playfully rag on him. At some point, she grabs his hand and their hands stay connected and Will feels like he just scored a hattrick. Dinner is yummy and romantic and so fun because everything about Danielle Layden is fun. Will snags the check, ignoring her look in the process. 

As they’re walking back to campus, Danielle has tucked herself into Will’s side. She pokes him playfully. “Do you still think we’re getting married?”

Will cackles. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

“No,” she says softly, biting her lip. 

He looks at her momentarily, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Good.”

Right in front of her dorm building, she kisses him. He smiles into her lips as he pulls her closer.

february 2024

Danielle has a big paper due next week. She doesn’t have time for this. 

She checks her phone again to skip the song and rolls her eyes at the dozens of messages from Will the whole morning. Thank God she’s been on Do Not Disturb. 

She may not know the ins and outs of hockey like her new boyfriend, but she knows what it’s like to lose. So she knows that he was really upset when BC lost in the first Beanpot game against BU. Hell, she was there in the stands. She knows the guys on the ice were one hundred times more upset than the fans in the stands representing the eagle. 

But ghosting her and then ditching her on a pre-planned date they had the next day is uncalled for. Judging from the sheer amount of texts and missed phone calls the last 24 hours, she knows Will knows he fucked up. But she’s not doing this. She’s not taking this crap from anyone, much less a boy. 

Two hours later, once she’s knocked out a good chunk of her paper, she leaves the library in search of some dinner outside of the dining hall to treat herself. It’s just her luck that as she’s walking past Conte with her headphones in, she sees some of the team in the distance walking towards her. Will is one of them. 

She sees the moment he recognizes her and then stubbornly puts her head down. She hears him call her name, but she just brushes roughly past him, shoulders knocking together. If he wants to explain herself, he’s gonna have to do more than that. 

When she’s just changed into her pajamas later that night, her phone rings. It’s Will again. She decides to answer.”

“What do you want?”

“Come outside.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t-”

“Please?” 

She hears the plea in her voice. “Fine.” She hangs up, grabs her keys and jacket, and runs down the stairs. 

As soon as she walks outside, she sees Will standing to the side, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hi,” he says.

“You ready to talk now?”

He flinches. “I deserved that.”

She crossed her arms, “Well?”

“I’m really, really sorry for ghosting you the last few days,” he rushes out quickly but tone dripped in sincerity and vulnerability. “I-it was really shitty of me to just avoid you and not respond to you at all, especially when I know you were just worried about me. I owed you more than that. I owe you more than that. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get to me like that. I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “Will, I get that losing a game like that sucks. I’m not really mad that you’re mad about it. I’m pissed that you didn’t talk to me, even if it was to tell me to leave you alone.”

“I’m really-”

She puts her hand up. “I’m not done yet.” He shuts his mouth and nods at her to continue. “I know I’m still trying to understand your world and how I fit into that, but getting ignored like I was the last few days sucked. We just started dating. It felt like a slap in the face. I don’t care if you don’t wanna talk to me, just tell me you don’t wanna talk to me instead of leaving me in the dark. If that happens again-”

“It won’t,” he says firmly. “It won’t. And it’s not my world that you have to fit into or whatever. It’s not about me. It’s never about me. It’ll never be about me. I fucked up, Dani. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She looks at him for a moment, before jabbing a finger into his chest. “Apology accepted. Just talk to me next time, okay?”

“I will, I promise,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief. “God, I’m such an idiot. It’s not like you’d ever judge me.”

“For what? The loss?”

“..Yeah?”

She rolls her eyes, taking her hands in his. “I judge you. I do it all the time, actually. Never, ever for that, though.” She squeezes his hands. “It just wasn’t you guys’ night. You’re a good hockey player, Will, but that’s not why I’m with you”

He chuckles wryly, leaning his forehead against hers. “I need to buy you a ring.”

“Easy, tiger,” she warns with a grin. “If you want me to completely forgive you, you owe me coffee for the next three months.”

“That easy?”

“No,” she admits. “But it’s a start.”

He places a quick kiss on her lips. “Anything. Anything you want.”

april 2024

The second the clock runs out, Danielle puts her head in her hands. There are murmurs of disappointment and cursing heard from attendants of the Frozen Four watch party her friend hosted, but all Danielle can do is bite her lip in sadness for Will and the other guys. She ses Ryan visibly sobbing and that’s her limit, as she walks into the kitchen to grab a glass of water to take a breather. She fingers through her phone to the text chain with Will, sending a red heart and “always proud of you” before putting her phone back in her pocket. 

She squeezes her eyes shut. God, they were so close. They worked so hard. Will’s worked so hard. But that’s just how it goes sometimes. 

As she’s helping clean up, she can’t help but think of the implications of the loss. She hasn’t been shy with Will after learning more about how big of a deal he is in the hockey world and how there’s a chance he may not come back next year. Initially it terrified her — getting into a relationship with someone who might not even be on the East Coast in a few months — and it still does somewhat, but he’s been so open and honest about it and Danielle has never been the kind of girl to not do something because she’s afraid. 

But that night, in her dorm, as she sees Will send a text back with just a heart, she’s afraid. They’ve only been dating for four months. And he’s become one of the best parts of her life. She has always wanted him to do what’s best for himself and his career — she has no part in that decision and doesn’t want to have a part — but if that means leaving BC, what does the future of them look like? 

The next morning, Danielle is up early and playing with her phone in bed mindlessly, waiting for the text from Will that he’s back and settled in his dorm. She knows the team had a flight scheduled to land early this morning and even before last night’s result, she was always going to see him.

Once she gets a text from Will, she’s bolting out the door, grabbing a small of groceries she had gotten the night before, knowing that him and Gabe’s fridge is emptier than usual and maybe a simple breakfast of a nice omelette and a smoothie will cheer them up. 

The door swings open before she can even text Will to let her in. She barely sees his face before he pulls her into a tight hug. She squeezes him, swaying them side to side, as students going in and out of the building step sideways to avoid them. 

“I’m sorry, dude.”

He somehow musters out a watery chuckle at the nickname that’s somehow become a petname between them. He mutters into her shoulder. “I fucking hate losing.”

She continues rubbing his back. “I know.”

“We were so close.”

“I know,” she pulls away and reaches up to run a hand through his hair. He practically collapses into himself, pulling her into another hug, resting his chin on top. “I’m proud of you regardless,” she says into his chest softly. “All of you. You worked so hard.”

“I love you,” he mutters and Danielle’s stomach flips. He first said it the day before he left for St. Paul when they were having a movie night at her place, snuggled up in her bed as he whispered it into her hair, but it still makes her throat close up with adoration. 

(She hasn’t said it back yet, but he hasn’t pressured her at all. She’s almost amazed at how much he doesn’t seem to be.)

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go inside.”

He automatically reaches for the bag around her shoulders with a furrowed brow. “What’s in here?”

“Groceries. I figured you and Gabe hadn’t eaten yet so I thought I’d whip up an omelette or something.”

He steps into the empty elevator and kisses her for the first time since he left. “God, you’re an angel.”

“No, I think ahead,” she corrects. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there in person.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “I feel your support everywhere all the time.”

“You do?”

“With every call and text,” he assures. “Thanks for coming. I’m probably not going to be the best company today.”

“Will,” she taps his chin so he’ll look at her when she says her next statement. “There is nowhere else I would’ve been today, no matter the result.” He just pulls her closer to his side in response. 

When she gets to Will and Gabe’s suite, she immediately scurries around the kitchen as Will hovers. Usually she would shoo him away and make him wait elsewhere, but she knows he doesn’t wanna be alone right now. As she’s plating the second omelette, Gabe wanders out and she shoots him a small smile, stomach dropping at the bags under his eyes that mirror Will’s. She gestures at him to sit and slides over a plate and a glass of the green smoothie she made before giving him a hug. 

“Smitty’s lucky to have you,” Gabe says inbetween forkfuls. 

Danielle chuckles as she fixes herself a plate. “I’m just as lucky to have him. Where’s Ryan? I can fix him a plate if he wants.”

“Stop,” Will says with a look.

“What? I can!”

“I know,” he says fondly. “But you don’t need to.”

She gives him a deadpan look. “Well, is he coming?”

Will sighs. “He said he might stop by in a bit.”

“I’ll leave him some of the smoothie then.” She catches Will’s smile as she starts digging into her omelette, talking with Gabe about anything except the loss. 

After breakfast, she and Will venture to his room, where they lay in his bed and he puts on Brooklyn 99. As she’s laying on his chest and he’s twirling her hair around his finger, she can tell his head is everywhere but in this room. She lets him be like that for three episodes before she reaches for the remote to pause it. 

She turns to him. “What’s going through your mind?”

He shrugs. “Probably everything you think.” They sit in silence for a minute or two, before he pipes up again. “You can ask me.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the answer is yours to decide, and I know you’re gonna ask for my opinion but I don’t want you to be influenced by it,” she smoothes over his furrowed brows with her thumbs. “Everything coming up next has been a thing long before we met. Even if I had an opinion about it, it shouldn’t be taken into account.”

“So you think I should leave BC and sign?”

“I think you should seriously weigh the pros and cons of both, which I already know you’re doing.”

He sighs with a wry smile. “You were born to be a lawyer.” 

She tilts her head to the side. “Do you want to talk about it now? Because we can.”

“Later, maybe.”

She hums. “Okay.”

“But I want to let you know that no matter what I decide, that how I feel about you is the same.” She raises an eyebrow but he’s so lost in his thoughts and what he wants to say that he misses it as he barrels on, determined. “Whatever decision I make, I still want this to keep going. Which is maybe unfair to ask you because there’s a chance I’d be all the way across the country. But I really care about you and-”

“Will,” she interrupts him, holding a hand up. “You’re getting so ahead of yourself. Make your decision first, and then we can talk about us, okay?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m just leaving you.”

“Huh? You’re not. I know you’re not. This is your career, dude. I’m never, ever going to hold that against you.” She presses a quick kiss on his lips to try to assure him. “I knew what I was getting into, okay? And I’m still here, aren’t I? We can talk about the logistics of it all later more in depth, if we even need to get to that point, but don’t worry yourself in a tizzy about the ‘us’ part of it so much, okay?”

He blinks. “I got you something.”

Deciding to go along with the sudden change of topic, she humors him. “What did you get me?”

He reaches over her to his bedside and she just lets him, exaggeratingly spitting out his hair that touches her mouth. He just rolls his eyes before retrieving a small white bag. 

She softens as he places it in her hands. “What’s this?”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You didn’t think I’d forget about your birthday, did you? I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You were competing for a national championship,” she responds automatically. “I didn’t-you didn’t have to get anything for me.”

He scoffs softly. “Bullshit,” he nods at the bag. “Open it.”

Biting her lip she carefully opens the bag, to see that there’s a ring box there. “Oh my God. Are you asking me to marry you?”

He rolls his eyes as she giggles. “You’re the worst.”

She pops open the box and it is a ring. She picks it up gently inbetween her fingers. A dainty leaf ring with light teal stones. It’s perfect. It matches with the rings she already wears. She slips it on and suddenly wants to cry. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.” 

She shoves the bag and box to the side before hugging him properly. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

“Happy birthday. Belated.”

As she looks down at the ring, she takes a deep breath. They’re going to be just fine. 

may 2024

As Ryan parks his car in front of Will’s childhood home in Lexington, Danielle suddenly feels like her feet are glued to the floor of his car. 

Ryan, noticing his friend’s girlfriend’s hesitation, nudges her shoulder gently. She’s quickly become one of his friends now, especially considering that he’s going to be staying at BC for at least another year. “Hey,” he says softly. “You good?”

“I’m great,” she responds automatically, reaching to the back seat to grab the box holding his present.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he says. 

“It’s Will’s day,” she says firmly. “How I feel doesn’t matter.”

He clicks his tongue. “I’d disagree. And he would too. You can be happy for him and also sad that he’s moving to the other side of the country, you know?”

She looks over to him and swallows at the look on his face. The unspoken “I am” lingers in the air and she sighs. A small smile appears on her face as they exchange a look, as she leans forward to place a quick friendly kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for driving.”

“Anytime.”

The first person she recognizes as they filter into the home is Grace, who beams at the sight of them both. She wraps Ryan in a hug first, squeezing him tight before pushing him away to hug Danielle. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you. How were finals?”

“A bit tough, I won’t lie.”

“You get used to it,” Grace says sympathetically, taking the box out of the younger girl’s hands. “He’s somewhere out back, surrounded by a bunch of people probably.”

Danielle nods and Grace must notice her lingering because the blonde offers her a reassuring smile. “He’s been talking about you all day.”

“That’s nice of him,” she comments softly. 

Grace gives her a knowing smile before lighting pushing her towards the direction of the back porch. “Go. He’ll be excited to see you.”

The second she walks outside, she smiles at all the teal balloons decorating the home and how wonderful the weather is to celebrate Will officially signing with San Jose. He made the decision a few weeks ago but waited until now to make it official and Danielle couldn't be any prouder. 

It seems like when her eyes land on him, he’s already looking back, eyes bright and a big smile on his face as he gestures for her to come to him. 

“Hi,” she says, leaning into his side for a hug. 

He instinctively kisses the top of her head. “Hi. This is Aidan, Nico and Max from the St. Sebs days. Boys, this is-”

“Dani,” Aidan says with a knowing smile. “Nice to meet you. Smitty hasn’t shut up about you since you guys met.”

“Unsurprising,” Danielle drawls out. “He’s kinda obsessed with me.”

The guys all laugh and Daniele giggles along with them. She looks up at Will, who’s beaming. She fights the urge to kiss him in front of all his friends, but he beats her to it, leaning down to kiss her sweetly. She laughs into his lips when his friends start chirping him goodheartedly. She hears Ryan saying that he’s used to seeing this shit all the time and that it’s frankly the cutest thing ever and Danielle is assured that Ryan’s a real one.

“Congrats,” she murmurs to Will, his friends now distracted. “I love you.”

(Danielle cracked a few weeks ago, when she finished her last final and Will took her out on a surprise date into the city. They were walking along the Charles River in the sunset and she felt like she just had to tell him she loved him at that moment. The smile from him after she said it is an image she’ll always have in her memory)

“Thanks, babe,” he says. He interlaces their hands together. “You ready to meet everyone?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

Will chuckles. “Come on. We’ll start with the cousins. They’re easy.”

She follows him as his thumb brushes against the ring.

[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 1098 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Hinata x chubby!Reader

genre: angst with comfort, happy ending

warnings: spoilers

It was still hot outside even though it was nearing midnight and Hinata’s eyes began to sting. The temperatures rarely dropped below anything considered perfect summer weather in Japan. Last year when he realized it wouldn’t snow during wintertime he found it new and exciting. This year, the prospect only filled him with dread.

For the most part, he really enjoyed Brazil. He had found a new love in beach volleyball, got along pretty well with the people around him and… and that was about it. It wasn’t unusual for him to feel lonely when he had time to think about something other than training on his delivery runs - or when he was alone in his apartment and happened to glance too long at his lock screen showing his friends grinning widely into the camera.

But tonight felt different. The last delivery he had just dropped off was for a married couple, the husband being Japanese. As he opened the door to receive his food, his eyes lit up and after noticing Hinata’s accented Portuguese when he asked for the money, he had switched over to his native language with a hopeful glint in his eyes. And that was all it took. That short exchange had cracked the dam inside of Hinata that had been filling up since his arrival a little over 18 months ago. He reached a park, scarcely bigger than the gym back home, that, from the looks of it, seemed to be mostly deserted. Through the sparse amount of trees with their lusciously green canopy, he spotted the hustle and bustle of a restaurant. Warm, inviting lights, laughter, music - people having a good time. And as usual, he was on the outside looking in. He slowed and eventually got off his delivery bike. Maybe he shouldn’t be riding it when his vision started to blur. A few drops fell onto the pebbly pathway from an earlier short November shower.

Not bothering to wipe away the water from the bench he plopped down and took a deep breath. He had trouble doing so in the swampy humid air. He leaned forward, staring at the ground. Another wave of laughter carried over from the restaurant. He slung his arms around his chest, his head was almost between his knees now and he coughed a little when he felt a lump in his throat. He began to mutter to himself in Japanese. “Why am I here? What was I thinking? I miss everyone so much. I wanna go home! I -“

“Hey, are you okay?”

Hinata quickly turned his head away, closing his eyes to keep calm.

The voice seemed to belong to a young woman. You stood a couple of meters away, a plastic bag from a convenience store in one, a popsicle in the other hand.

Just wishing you would leave him alone, he nodded but couldn’t stop a small sniffle.

“Yeah, you see, I don’t believe that.”, you said in a kindly teasing sort of way. He only realized now that you spoke Japanese.

You added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”, he said to his shoes, worried you might think less of him when you saw the big heavy tears now rolling down his face and onto the clenched fists on his knees.

Your shadow, formed by a streetlamp behind you, nodded thoughtfully, then held the popsicle between your lips while rummaging in your bag for something.

Pebbles crunching under your shoes, you came closer and a moment later placed a pack of tissues and a small bottle of strawberry milk next to him, taking a couple of steps back again.

He looked up.

“Of course, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure everything will seem a little better tomorrow.”

Your smile was genuine and sweet. A slight accent told him you weren't a native speaker but the only thing he could really make out in the faint light was your curvy silhouette.

When he didn’t say anything you went on, “It’ll be okay. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

After a short unsure pause you walked away. He watched you go. His eyes fell onto the gifts next to him and he let out a small thankful whimper, using his shoulder to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall again. Hinata cleared his throat and, gingerly at first, grabbed the milk and tissues to put in his pocket for later.

The following morning he woke up tangled in his bedsheets and quieted the blaring alarm on his phone. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and as he stared at the ceiling of his small apartment the previous night came back to him. A short twinge of embarrassment rose in his chest. It wasn’t that he had never cried in public but just because he had done so before didn’t mean he was immune to the feeling of shame that followed.

He rolled over and spotted the now-empty bottle of strawberry milk sitting on the low table in his cramped room. What would be the chances of seeing you again? At the very least he wanted to thank you for your kindness. But he was also so desperate for a friend, especially one he could speak Japanese with. And so, deciding he would drive by the little park again tonight, he crawled out of bed and got started on his day.

Six days later and still no luck. It was pretty absurd to hope to find one person again in a city as huge as Rio de Janeiro, especially after only seeing them through a veil of tears in the weakened light of a park lantern, but if Hinata was good at anything it was never giving up.

The first week passed. Then the second.

At this point, he had to squeeze the pack of tissues in his pocket to make sure he didn’t just imagine the whole exchange.

Then two nights later, as he hurried up the steps to an apartment building he felt his determination slipping a little. What if he had already passed you on the street and didn’t recognize you? You might stay that kind stranger forever. He rang the bell of this latest delivery and absently drummed his fingers on his thighs as he waited for the door to open.

“Boa n- oh! Hey you!”

Hinata’s eyes widened. He recognized the voice. Oh, he definitely didn’t expect you to be this pretty. A smile, wider than any he had felt in months, spread across his face. Finally. He found you.

a/n: is it very obvious yet that I love the trope of meeting your s/o when one of you is having a really bad day?

[makethemhoesmad]

loml

no comment

—

“i love you, i love you, you’re the fucking love of my life baby, you’re perfect, wanna be with you forever,” paige says to me, kissing my neck while we lay naked in her bed. she never really says this stuff, only after we’ve fucked and she’s itching to go another round. i always cave. “mhmmm, paigey, i love you, please touch me,” she touches me, does what i want, then holds me close to her naked body and falls asleep, mumbling how she’ll never leave. I fall asleep, because she’s a warm body and i love her. she’s the love of my life.

I jolt up from a dream. a dream of a baby with two moms, one blond and one with my face. it wasn’t real, it never is, but after dreams like this it makes me hurt on the inside. i turn over to muffle the silent sniffs that always come from the empty feeling dreams like this leave behind. the body next to me moves, and a cool hand comes up to brush my cheek.

“baby.”

“paige.”

“what’s wrong? did i do something? can i help?”

i sniff, then curl against her, expressing, “i need a baby.”

she looks at me for a moment, perplexed, then kisses my forehead.

“you’re so tired darling, go back to bed”

hm.

paige gets back from practice at normal time, but she isn’t acting as normal as she usually does. normally she’s excitable and tells me all about the shots she made, the plays she set, everything. today she’s just here. my phone lights up, with a text from ashlynn shade of all people. i rarely talk to her. i go to the bathroom to open it, because maybe paige shouldn’t read it.

i read the first message and sink to the floor, back pressed to the wall.

ash shade

hey. i think you should know that paige keeps saying…things about you. 

what kind of things???

ash shade

well, she talks about how you’re always going on about wanting to settle down, get married, have kids. and she said that “you’re the love of her life. she just doesn’t want that. not now, not ever”

paige gets over her mood later, and we do our usual dance around the obvious issues. she pretends not to notice my faked enthusiasm, and i pretend not to notice the fact that she never once tells me i’m the love of her life. when she falls asleep, i don’t. i wonder when she’ll break up with me. it has to happen soon, there’s no chance it won’t. i’m taken back to the first conversation we had, where she told me that if sex with me was half as good as talking to me was, then soon enough we’d be pushing strollers. but i guess that’s over.

“cmon bro, don’t fucking be like that,” paige taunts me, rolling her eyes at my words.

“don’t you dare bro me, paige. i have a right to be fucking mad, you’re shit talking me to your teammates then coming home and banging me like i’m some one night stand! how about you stop being like this,” i scoff, spitting venom at her words.

“well bro, if you need to know because you’re so insecure that you can’t stand someone saying anything about you, the team asked how we were doing and i told them we wanted different things. fair enough.”

“if we want different things, there’s no point in staying together when we both know where this is going to end.”

“Fine. fuck you and fuck your rings and your cradles.”

“Fuck you,” i say, finalizing what had been brewing since we turned on the fire.

paige leaves, slamming the door and shouting profanities. i lock the door, turn around, and stand in our my bedroom. her hoodie is on the floor. her hoodie is in my arms. she’s the loss of my life.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 4] Car Ride

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Talks of Abortion

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji tries to hand you the bouquet of flowers, but you don’t take them from his hands. Your eyes linger on them, and while it’s a beautiful arrangement, you don’t want to take them. For some reason, you feel that if you take them, he’ll believe you’re accepting to try and work things out which you aren’t willing to do. Even though maybe you should.

You turn your head when you see Shiu drive off, and you roll your eyes. Toji clears his throat and he assures you, “I’ll drive you home.”

“I have to buy a mattress.” You inform him, and he slowly nods his head. He doesn’t mind, you guess. You still can’t help but ask the question, “What about your job?”

“I can leave early, it doesn’t matter.” He responds, and you sigh. Suddenly he can leave early but when you begged to have a date night, he was always busy. He’s putting in so much effort now, effort that he should’ve put in before you decided you were going to leave. “Do you wanna go do that now? We can talk while we go shopping for that.”

“I guess…” You search around to see if you find Shiu’s car in the distance. You don’t really want to talk to Toji, but you also have no other way to go home other than by walking or taxi. Plus you need his help right now. You look around to find his car, and you find it a long way down the road. 

You begin to walk to his car, and he follows behind, running so he can open the door for you. You don’t thank him when he does, you just get in the passenger seat, and you side eye him when he doesn’t shut the door. He throws the flowers on your lap and when he shuts the door, you toss them to the backseat. When he gets into the driver’s seat he asks, “Why don’t you want the flowers?”

“What’s the point of them? Aren’t we getting divorced?” You respond, and he tries to take a deep breath. He turns on the car and pulls out of his parking spot, driving somewhere. You know this route, and it’s not where he’s supposed to take you. You don’t speak about it, it’s your own fault. You weren’t seriously expecting Toji of all people to be cooperative, were you?

“Shiu told me you got a nice little apartment…” He speaks up when he stops at a red light. You hum in response, not really trying to engage in a conversation. You lean your head back, resting it and shutting your eyes. You just want this to be over. Never in your life did you expect to dread being in a car next to Toji. The love of your life sits next to you, and you can’t wait to get out. To run and never have to see him again.

You open your eyes and see that you’re not driving back to Toji’s apartment. He’s taking a detour. At least you won’t have to take a taxi. Your eyes shift to him, his eyes are focused on the road. His hands clench the steering wheel while he bites down on his lip. His eyes finally glance at you, and you avert your gaze to the road that’s in front of you. “So um… What do you do?”

“Nothing cool.” You answer. You hear him exhale. Maybe he’ll stop asking dumb questions to fill up the silence. You’ve gotten accustomed to a quiet car ride, every time that you tried to speak up you’d be shot down. You don’t understand why he’s trying to change now– He already signed the papers. 

“Will you still show up for Megumi?” He asks, and you take a moment to think about it. Should you really? Toji constantly reminded you that you weren’t Megumi’s mother in any way, why should you try? But even then, you and Megumi grew close and formed a bond. Megumi shouldn’t have to pay for his father’s mistakes. You don’t give him a definitive answer though, simply an,

“I’ll try.”

“Why are you like this? Can’t you see that I’m trying?” He finally snaps, making you scoff. You cross your arms, debating if this is even worth engaging. He just wants a reaction out of you. Something that is longer than two words. “I’m just thinking that you wanted a divorce because you’re seeing someone else. If you actually loved me, you would at least try to work this out.”

He succeeds. He gets the reaction that he wants. You’re seething with his words and you yell, “I’ve been the only one trying this entire marriage, Toji! Not even these past two years, our entire relationship! Do you think I just came to this decision overnight? Do you think just a couple days of you trying will make up for five years of your neglect? It’s funny that you’re the one talking about cheating when you–”

“Here you go again with the same fucking shit! That happened years ago and you don’t let me forget. You should’ve just left me then!” He raises his voice as well, frustrated with this whole situation.

“Then why the fuck are you so upset that I’m leaving you now? Tell me, Toji. Like this you won’t have to hear me complain about it!” You respond, and he has to pull over into a plaza to park. It’s best if you get out here and call a taxi. You’ll order a mattress online, and sleep on the floor for the time being. When he puts the car in park and the doors unlock, and just as you’re about to open the car door, he locks them. You hate his car because his side is the only one that has controls to lock and unlock the car.

“That was years ago… I’m trying to become a better man, please. Give me a chance.” He sounds vulnerable, and part of you wants to comfort him. You love him more than anything and anyone, you’re willing to work it out. But for your sake… And for your baby’s sake, you have to leave Toji. He claims that he’ll be better but he won’t. 

“How long will it take for you to go back to being him? The same man that couldn’t even care to share how his day was when I asked him. You claimed that you’d change a couple times, Toji. You did change for a couple of days, but you always went back to your cold demeanor.” Your voice is breaking, and you can’t afford to start crying in front of him. You won’t let him see you so weak again, “I’ve seen the way you looked at her, and I want someone to look at me the same way. I deserve that. I know that you can’t be that same man for me, and I’ve come to respect that. The same way I want you to respect me leaving. I don’t want you to reach out to me just for the sole purpose of getting back together. We need time apart.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to think of what he’s going to say next. He won’t admit that he’s at fault for all of this. Toji shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He tries to be rational– To be the mature adult that he’s supposed to be. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “I’m going to unlock the doors. If you get out of the car, I won’t talk to you ever again. All I can say is good luck in your life.”

“That’s not possible.” You mutter, but he hears it loud and clear. Are you insinuating that he’s a weak man? That’s what he’s hearing at the very least, and Toji hates it.

“What are you trying to say? Are you saying that I’ll come crawling back to you? That you’re irreplaceable or something like that, because I have some news for you–” He raises his voice and you feel the tears well up in your eyes. You swallow the lump that comes to your throat before you yell,

“I’m pregnant, Toji! That’s what I’m trying to say, I’m pregnant.” You watch him as his eyes go wide, his breath getting caught up. You’re waiting for him to say the worst, knowing that he doesn’t want this. “I don’t need your help though. I’ll be fine. If you don’t want a part in any of this, then when I exit the car, you’ll be dead to me the same way I’ll be dead to you.”

A smile comes to his face, and you feel sick. You know he isn’t happy that he’s having a baby. You want to fool yourself into thinking that he is, but you know he’s not. He doesn’t care about that. He’s just thinking about– He grabs your hands and brings them up to his lips, kissing them gently before he puts them around his face. “Please stay. For our baby.”

He’s thinking about trapping you. Like this you won’t leave his side. He’s not thinking about all the what ifs and the struggles that come with pregnancy and a child. He doesn’t want this for the right reasons, and you hate it. His face inches closer to yours, and he’s about to kiss you but you pull away.

“Open the car door.” You tell him, your voice stern. His brows furrow.

“We have to talk about this.” He says, and you shake your head. You have to take a deep breath so he doesn’t hear your voice. You don’t want him to hear you on the verge of tears even though your watery eyes are the dead give away.

“No, you think that I’m going to stay with you because I’m pregnant. But I’m not. I don’t have to rely on you.” You respond. 

“Why don’t you just get an abortion then?” He asks, and that’s when the tears that are in your eyes fall. He bites his tongue, quickly regretting the words that just left his lips. “I mean… If you’re so set on being alone, do you really want to have my baby? You know that means we’re stuck together in a sense.”

“No it doesn’t.” You wipe away the tears that managed to escape. You try to reach over to unlock the car door, and when you manage to unlock it, he doesn’t waste a second to lock it back up. He pushes your hand away. “Just forget that I told you anything. You don’t want another kid, and I’m not forcing you to be a father. I can be a mother by myself.”

“For how long have you known?” He questions, and you take a deep breath.

“I just found out.” You confess. 

“And you decided that you’re going to be a single mother? Do you know how fucking hard it is to raise a child by yourself? You haven’t even thought about it for a day.” He points out. You bite down on your lip and think about what you’ll say next.

“I mean… I handled all of Megumi’s issues myself even when I wasn’t supposed to be a parent. And I got used to the idea that if I ended up pregnant, you’d end up leaving. So I don’t really need to think about it more.” You share, and he scoffs.

“You really think I would just leave you?” He questions and you stay silent. That’s his response. “I would’ve never done that to you.”

“I don’t know Toji, you made it clear that the idea of having kids with me was a nightmare and that you only had money and time for Megumi.” You remind him, and Toji finds himself speechless. You sigh. You really hate this. “I’m telling you because it’s my duty. If you want to come around, great. If you don’t, also great. Me and my baby will do just fine.”

“It’s my baby too.” He says. “I guess… You should do whatever you think it’s best. But if we’re not getting back together, you should get an abortion.”

“I’m not doing that, Toji. I’ve always wanted a baby, and this is my chance.” You respond, even though part of you agrees with him. “Just… Let me out.”

“I’m getting you that mattress and then taking you home.” He replies. You take a deep breath watching as he switches the gear to drive. “Then we’re going to talk about this.”

[mikanotes]

goodbyes are sour

connor x gn!reader — 2.1k words

genre: angst sorta! mutual pining in denial

warnings: mentions of guns and killing, kabedon for the sake of science, connor unreliable narrator LOL u have feelings android man… maybe ooc idk. (wrote this w the idea of connor being deviant since the beginning bcs Yeah!)

synopsis: You meet Connor again. Turns out things are much more complicated when you aren’t working together.

author’s note: hi dbh fic?! i Love connor nd i’ve been writing this for a while (crazy since it’s rly short) but i don’t like it much… anyways whoevers alive in the dbh fandom have this!

“Detective.”

There’s just something about the way Connor speaks. The cadence, the pitch, the enunciation of each word. It’s painfully evident that he isn’t human. Everything about him is so machine-like that even his perfect, human-like exterior could not fool anyone. However it is something you got used to. Hearing the android speak your name and call you ‘Detective’ back a while ago felt somewhat unsettling. Now it’s so easy to recognize that it almost makes you feel at ease.

“Do you seriously think I’m an android? I don’t wanna deal with those fucking machines, either. I’d be glad if you put a bullet through them rather than me.”

Turns out hearing him fake being a human is ten times more terrifying than his android speech patterns could ever hope to be.

This was not part of the plan.

You were sent with a unit to patrol around the streets for any android who still hadn’t been brought back or destroyed. You weren’t a fan of this whole assignment, but felt better than the rookies who were sent out to shoot humanoid robots as their first field mission probably did.

It would be fine, is what you told yourself, because you didn’t feel anything towards Cyberlife’s creations enough to be completely uncomfortable with the idea of their blue blood on your hands, though it wasn’t ideal. You could manage. Until the first person you came across happened to be the one android you genuinely cared about.

“I don’t think he’s one of them…” one of your fellow officers murmurs next to you. You suddenly become very aware of the gun he, too, is holding and pointing towards the target. Fuck. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough.

At least this idiot’s performance seems to be fooling them.

You wait one second, then sigh on the second, and finally lower your gun on the third. “You shouldn’t be here.” you say casually, prompting your colleagues to relax and the atmosphere to lighten a little. Your heart is in your throat, however. “We’ve got orders to round up every android we see around here. You should go home. This isn’t exactly safe.”

“I know, I know.” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “I was gonna leave anyways, thanks.”

Your coworkers mumble to themselves about how disagreeable this guy’s attitude is and it’s enough for them to miss the wink the latter sends your way as he leaves. You almost regret not shooting a bullet through his head.

Still, you sigh in relief, setting your gun back at your side and running a hand over your face. You don’t think you can continue patrolling in peace. There’s one too many questions in your mind and the key to answering them is escaping from your grasp.

You take the phone in your pocket and pretend to get a call, moving it to your ear and looking at the members of your team. “I’ll join up with you later.” you say, gesturing towards your phone. They nod and walk away, and you do the same, feeling more relieved than ever that these people see you as a leader of sorts. They won’t question you on anything. You hurry towards the direction your so-called partner left to the moment they’re out of sight.

A rooftop door, stairs, and more stairs. You’re jogging down like you’re chasing a criminal on the run. You’re down to the fifth floor out of eight when someone grabs your arm and pulls you out a door.

“Wha—” you try to yell, but a cold hand settle over your mouth. Your body relaxes but your expression tenses. Connor. “Let me go,” you mumble incoherently, surprisingly succeeding in getting him to let you step away.

You sigh and shake your head, turning around abruptly. His ‘human costume’ (which really just was a grey suit jacket thrown over what should’ve been his Cyberlife uniform, glasses, and a cap to hide his LED) is already gone, replaced by his usual attire, just missing his jacket.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, annoyed, pointing towards the staircase (back there, on the roof) and the android simply shrugs. “Connor.”

“I was undercover, Detective. I thought someone as smart as you would recognize that much.” he says, his tone back to normal. You’d feel relieved if he wasn’t being so irritating. “Was I wrong?”

Your face drops. “No. I figured as much. But what for?” you sigh, crossing your arms.

“Same mission as always.”

“Who are you chasing? Did you find the place?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

It only clicks then that while you know about Connor continuing his mission after being laid off the case, you’re not part of it anymore. He had to be sent back to Cyberlife, and you should’ve been forgetting about him entirely. You’re still DPD, and you have orders to shoot Androids on sight— Which you clearly aren’t following. He’s right. He has no reason to tell you.

Still.

You grab his arm when he threatens to walk away. You’re not sure what you want to say, but you’re not done talking. He lets you. “Connor.”

“Detective.” he says. You straighten your back and sigh, not breaking eye contact. He tilts his head to the side and his LED flashes yellow for an instant. “You’re angry.”

Of course you’re angry. He’s infuriating. There’s something about how logical and dead-set on following every single rule he is that makes Connor the most annoying individual you’ve ever talked to. Everything he does has to be for his mission. Every single thing.

“Do threats work with you?” you ask blankly, “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’ll get Cyberlife to bring you back, and all that?”

When he takes a step closer to you again, forcing your back to press against the wall, and his LED does not even threaten to change hues, you’re taken aback. Just a bit. It’s the same kind of frustrated attitude you would’ve expected from a human after saying what you just did. But not Connor.

He doesn’t seem frustrated, though. And you know he can look annoyed. He just doesn’t. So he must not be. And you want to find what it is he’s doing exactly, stepping closer to you without even saying a word, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting at the distance between you two. You know he does everything for his work. Does he think you have new information on deviants? Does he really believe you would call Cyberlife on him? Is he using his stupid interrogation module on you? Whatever it is makes you even more annoyed.

The silence feels heavy. It makes things worse. It gives your brain time to process how this is making you feel and it’s no good at all. “What?” you break the silence, tone somewhat irritated.

“I’m trying to understand the reason why you’re so angry at me.” he explains simply, like it makes sense. His eyes narrow a bit and the LED at the side of his head flickers yellow for a moment. “And no, Detective. Threats don’t work on me. Not when I can tell you’re lying so easily.” he adds, quieter.

“Shut up.” you scoff.

“I dont think I will.”

“Connor.”

“— However,” he interrupts, “I can step away from you at any moment if you tell me to.”

“No.”

“No?”

What— No?! You register the word after saying it and sigh, face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. You panicked and said it, your mind processing his offer as him leaving you again— With no information and nothing to ease your stupid worries. Now it just sounds odd.

Is that embarrassment?

“You didn’t finish what you were trying to do, did you? You haven’t told me why I’m angry yet. Since you apparently care so much.” you say, tone sounding much softer than before. Your apparent discomposure took away all the bitterness from your voice. Interesting.

Truth be told, Connor knows why you’re angry. He’s not letting you in on the details of what he’s doing despite the time you spent working as partners a very short while ago. He’s spent enough time with people, and you especially, to know that after forming some kind of bond with a work partner, it would be frustrating not to receive information about their mission the way you used to from them—

Especially considering he was still chasing after something you both knew about. Jericho. But he cannot tell you about that. Not… Right now.

What he really was trying to do was evaluate how much of a threat you really could be to his investigation. He didn’t sense any hostility before and he doesn’t now, and you could’ve shot him but you didn’t. But it’s not enough. He needs more time— More evidence that it’s fine. That’s why he pulled you here in the first place. That’s why he pressured you to talk.

He needs to make sure killing you isn’t necessary.

“Because I posed a threat to the stability of your current mission earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to shoot me had I been discovered, and your reaction to your colleagues shooting me would’ve jeopardized your job itself.” he answers.

This reasoning would make sense.

“That’s not it.” you sigh.

Your heartbeat is slowing down. No good. Connor leans his arm on the wall next to you and moves closer. Your heartbeat picks up in speed. It’s almost alarming. He can tell all the details about your physical condition and deduce what you’re thinking or feeling based off of them, sure. But he’s no human. The way he views and comprehends emotions is registered in his system in a much more clear and logic-based way than it is in humans’ brains.

So maybe he won’t ever know why your heart beats so heavily against your ribcage. So he just has to pressure the right places and demand answers. He unfortunately can’t allow you to relax. He won’t get anything out of you if you’re calm. You’re much too turbulent for that.

Or maybe he’ll just have to ask. In a normal way.

“Detective, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you scoff, eyes widening. Wrong question.

You seem like you want to be angry but something is holding you back from displaying just how much he gets on your nerves. You sigh deeply and look at him, “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. More than usual. Why’d you pull me here if you didn’t want to tell me anything? And I’m worried. What if you really did get shot? Wasn’t Cyberlife supposed to deactivate you? They wouldn’t have brought in another Connor this time. You’re off the case, you— You would’ve died!”

“Maybe.”

There’s circles under your eyes. There always are, but they’re more defined now than they were the last time he saw you. Now that you’re actually being honest, your whole voice and mannerisms betray any of your usual annoyed and dismissive facade. He didn’t think you cared this much, though he understands that some humans are quick to empathize. To a fault.

Now it’s clear he doesn’t need to eliminate you at all. Part of him seems to have grown fond of your company. He couldn’t risk that getting in the way of his better judgment.

“I only pulled you here so you wouldn’t pointlessly chase down the streets searching for me, since I made sure no one would follow.” he says, stepping back and giving you more space, “You’re a police officer. It doesn’t matter what you say you’ll keep to yourself or not. I can’t compromise. This is too important.”

You’re hurt, it’s visible. He’s saying he can’t risk trusting you. He figures that must not feel nice.

The sound of the radio attached to your side breaks this prolonged silence with the promise of separation. You take it, eyes not leaving Connor’s, and listen to your colleague speak. You tell them you’ll be right there. You’re not one to be late. He knows you’ll really leave this time— Too far away for him to hope to talk to you again, if anything goes awry.

You turn the radio off and put it back where it was. “Hope you succeed, then.” you say, bitter, and push yourself up to start walking away.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.” Connor says. Asks. The words come out before he can really think. Something about your voice and this whole atmosphere made him… Feel uneasy. Like he needed to say something. If this is how your partnership ends, he doesn’t believe it should be on such a sour note. He cares doesn’t dislike you at all, so why should it?

You stagger a little, seemingly stopping in your tracks, but moving again no more than a second later. “You too, Connor.”

Somehow, goodbyes had never seemed so sad.

[s1utlvr]

Candy ༯

synopsis: Your boyfriend’s an asshole, but everytime you break up without fail Clarisse always welcomes you with open arms.

a/n: hihi!!!!! I wrote this as a kind of quick drable to prequel feather but can be read as a one shot as well guess I should mention it is a college au sort offfff. General warnings asshole ex Luke suggestive themes weed things are implied but nothing outright said you know the drill read it or don’t!!!!

inspired by Candy by Doja Cat

You really didn’t mean to make it a habit.

But you knew if you went to your friends and told them about how you’d broken up with Luke for what had had to have been the fiftieth time this semester they’d tell you the exact same things they’d been preaching to you since the first time you “broke up”.

So there you were once again, standing outside of Clarisse’s dorm teary eyed in your pajamas knocking at her door.

It took one glance of you for Clarisse to figure out what had happened.

“So what was it this time?” She asked with a smirk as she motioned for you to come in.

“Good he was just being such an asshole about me going out with my friends” you say as you plop down onto her bed as you embraced one of her pillows.

“When is Luke not being an asshole?” Clarisse scoffed as she grabbed a lighter and a joint she had pre-rolled.

“For me?” You asked looking up at clarisse with bright eyes as she sat down next to you.

“No im just gonna smoke while you watch in misery” she responded as she lit up the end of the joint before placing it up by your lips.

Clarisse always knew how to make you feel better even if it came with a side of sarcastic commentary.

“Gee thanks” you replied with a sarcastic smile as you took the joint between your fingers.

You couldn’t help but admire Clarisse in this lighting. The way sweatpants hung low on her waist and the way her sports bra hugged her chest, but little did you know that you were staring…very hard actually..

“Stop looking at me like that” Clarrise scoffed snatching the joint that laid between your fingers her voice snapping you back to reality.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like you wanna kiss me” She said taking a drag from the joint. You were staring at her lips now.

“What if I do?” You asked watching the smoke escape from her lips as she laid back.

“I wouldn’t let you” You frowned at her words as she passed you the joint.

“Why?” You asked placing the joint between your pouty lips before passing it back to Clarisse.

“Cause” she said taking a hit mid sentence “You know you’re gonna get back together next week and then you’re gonna feel all guilty for fucking around with me and I’m not gonna be at fault for that.”

You rolled your eyes at her words as you adjusted yourself your legs now on either side of hers as you straddled her

“I can handle my own feelings Clar. Luke’s probably out getting his dick sucked so who’s to say I can’t kiss you?”

“So do it. Kiss me.”

You didn’t even let the words fully leave her mouth before your lips were on hers.

Clarrise knew it was wrong of her to enjoy these moments so much. She knew she shouldn’t be hoping and praying that your dick of a boyfriend would pull a dick move so you’d end up on her doorstep all needy and desperate but gods she craved it so much. She knew it wasn’t real that it could never be that girls like you could never be saved from going back to your shitty boyfriends time and time again but aslong as it meant that she could indulge in you everytime you and Luke broke up she prayed that he would never change.

Your lips were the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted, and she was fucking addicted.

[literaila]

could you write a really fluffy peter Parker fic for Valentine’s Day (with banter ofc)

valentine, oh mine

tasm!peter x reader

a/n: this is not cute or fun or any of the things i aspire to be. it is painful. peter dies (he doesn’t). don’t read this.

*

“will you be my valentine?”

“hello, peter,” you answer, through your toothbrush. the words are deadpan. “i’m doing well, thank you. how are you?”

“better if you answer the question.”

you laugh, letting his response linger for a moment as you try to discern where, exactly, he is. your mouth tastes like spearmint, and it would be perfect to kiss him with. even though it’s monday, and almost midnight, and he shouldn’t be here.

for a whole multitude of reasons (number one being that you know he’ll keep you awake for at least a couple of hours more).

“where are you?” you ask him, listening to ruffling and a whine from the other end.

a manly whine, he might tell you, if you could see his face and make fun of it.

“stop deflecting. you don’t wanna be my valentine?” you can hear the frown.

and then there’s a horn, signaling absolutely nothing.

you spit into the sink, and put him on speaker as you rinse.

“i’ve gotta say that this is one of the more underwhelming valentine proposals i’ve gotten. you’re not even here. instead you’re…” you drawl, “where, again?”

“this is just further proof that i’m always thinking about you,” peter tells you, recalling an argument you’d had the day prior.

about how he wasn’t paying attention to you—or the conversation you were trying to have with him about one of your coworkers—but instead, according to him, thinking about you.

which did not help his case, of course. instead you’d given him the silence treatment for three minutes while he groveled—poorly.

and you doubt that he was thinking about valentine’s day when his eyes were glued to your lips the entire time.

“again,” you tell him, trying to hide the sound of a smile in your voice, “i would rather you just listen to me. answer my question and i’ll answer yours,” you bargain.

“how’s that fair? i asked first.”

“i asked second.”

peter sighs, and there’s a brief pause where he breaks up. you mess with the sound settings to no avail. up or down, his voice is distorted.

“are you—“ his voice wonders. “i was gonna tell you—“ and then a pause. and then. “are you giving me the silent treatment again?”

“cant hear you,” you hum. “somethings wrong with your phone.”

“how do you know it’s mine?” his voice enters again, breaking back and forth. another honking, and silence as he puts himself on mute.

because you’re no fool, and you know that peter would’ve answered the question already—if only to get you to answer his—if he didn’t know that you’d scold him for it.

“cause i can hear the wind while you swing,” you tease, though swallow, your voice is aiding the anger you should feel—because your boyfriend is a liar, and a traitor and you kinda hate him.

but you’re not really angry. you haven’t seen him since he left your house at six in the morning, so that’s probably why.

“i—“ there’s a pause. and then his voice is clear again. “that’s my hairdryer.”

“are you lying to me, peter?”

“it might even be the connection,” he continues, idly. “may’s been complaining about the service but i’ve been too busy to check the box, so—“

“are you still lying to me?”

you can almost see him swallow. “…no?”

“i told you not to call me when you’re out.”

“so you never want me to call you?” he asks, mock hurt. “when i’m not out, i’m always with you. i thought you liked my phone calls, and my voice if my memory serves me. someone really liked it—“

“you know what i mean.”

“do i?”

“peter parker, unless you want me to hang up—“

“okay, okay,” there’s still no swinging. “i’m sorry.”

“no, you’re not,” you whine, sitting on your bed and listening closely so he can’t trick you again.

“i actually am this time,” he swears. “i won’t do it again. but this is a very important matter.”

“swinging while talking is basically like texting and driving, and if i was doing that i’d be getting an earful from you.”

“it’s so not the same thing. first of all, spider senses, please keep up,” he tells you, laughing. “and who am i going to hurt in the open air?”

“a pigeon,” you say, almost angrily. “they’re an endangered species, you idiot.”

“they’re definitely not.”

“okay, then, yourself. who’s going to be my valentine if you slam into a wall and crack your head open?”

peter would not look cute without his skull, you remain firm on this fact.

you can hear his smile. “i knew you wanted to be my valentine.”

“before i knew you were lying to me.”

“you lie to me all of the time,” peter argues.

your brows furrow. “when?”

“when you said that you don’t like it when i call you,” he murmurs, almost soft, still teasing. “i know you do. you miss me.”

“i miss my boyfriend,” you answer, biting back some other remark about how you don’t miss him at all—honestly, you’re trying to prove that you’re not lying. “but apparently i’m talking to a superhero.”

“oh, did i forget to mention that? must’ve slipped my mind.”

“where are you now?” you ask. “it’s quiet.”

and then there’s a tap on the wall to your right.

“peter…”

“yes?”

“is that you?”

“maybe.”

“are you kidding?” you grumble, crawling on your knees to push back the curtains and open the window. you frown as you unlatch it, hands interrupted by other ones, doing the same thing. “how long have you been sitting out here?”

“since ‘are you lying?’ i think.” he says, in a terrible impression of your voice. “it’s cold.”

you pull him in by his wrist, immediately pushing him off when he tries to land on your bed on top of you.

peter pulls his mask off, smiling at you. “hi.”

“i’m mad. go take a shower.”

his fingers tip-toe up your arm, trying to get you to shiver. “are you really?” he hums.

“yes.”

“how can i make it up to you?”

“find me a better, non-lying valentine,” you tell him, pouting as you look away.

“is this supposed to be an answer?”

“why didn’t you just wait?” you ask instead. “if you were going to come here anyway, why didn’t you ask me in person instead of being a disappointment, and breaking a rule?”

“i don’t recall signing a contract…”

you groan, sitting up and crossing your legs as you look at him. unfortunately for you, his hair has fallen over his eyes just right, and you still want to kiss him.

“take me seriously.”

“i take everything you say,” he leans in, “very seriously.”

you push his nose. “you don’t.”

“i do!” he swears, grabbing your hand. “i’m listening. tell me what’s wrong.”

he says this condescendingly, because you already told him—kind of—but he knows that if you have to repeat it, you’ll break.

“this is why they say familiarity breeds contempt.”

peter smiles. “are you feeling contemptful right now?”

you nod.

he leans again, and you cant push him away. “how can i help?”

“you can apologize.”

peter’s smile grows softer as you look at him with eyes of steel, like he finds this version of you cute. your pout and your false anger, all bundled up into one perfect package.

just for him, you suppose.

he leans in some more, “i’m sorry,” he says, softly, just brushing your lips. “i was excited.”

you purse your lips, even while his are soft and teasing against them. it feels kind of like a feather brushing your skin, like peters got his own secret form of tickling you.

teasing you, like he always does. familiarity breeds contempt, and comfort, and confusion, and…

he kisses you fully, this time. a gentle peck. “i wanted to hear your voice,” he admits. “i’m impatient. i should listen to you more.”

“right…” you whisper, with him, as your only form of acknowledgement.

“i won’t call you while i’m out, okay? or i’ll pause somewhere.”

your brows are permanently fixed together. “don’t pause. just… get some headphones, or something.” you let your lips relax, finally, and they fall against his just as a consequence. “i like your voice too,” you admit, quietly, as an afterthought.

peters smile is bashful. “like wireless ones? not sure how that would work under the mask…”

“you made the suit,” you tell him, leaning back. “you cant figure it out, genius?”

“i’ll do it for you, i guess,” he sighs, but his fingertips trace the skin on both of your arms, simply because he’s that close.

“thank you.”

“are we done fighting now?”

you frown, pushing his hands away so you can cross your arms. “no. you really asked me to be your valentine over the phone?”

peter sighs, shaking his head. “i knew i should’ve gone with the skywriting.”

“or,” you say, rhetorically, “i don’t know, maybe a box of chocolates? flowers? a quick ‘hey, will you be my valentine?’ before you left this morning?”

“that’s so lame.”

“so is asking me over the phone.”

“i was excited,” peter argues. “i wanted an answer.”

“well you didn’t get one.”

“yes i did,” he tells you, finally grabbing your arm so he can pull you on top of him (because seriously, this is unfair).

“no.”

“you said i was your valentine,” he reminds you, tilting your head up so you’re looking at him.

“you’re mine,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “i never said i was yours.”

“wow,” peter murmurs. “that might be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“please. i called you a vermin to may the other day.”

he pouts, childishly.

“ask me nicely,” you say, after a moment.

“i did.”

“ask me nicely again.”

there’s a pause where two stubborn people meet at a head—literally, head to head—and consider the prospects of losing this battle.

but peter is softer than you are, when you tease a smile on your lips, he breaks. “will you be my valentine?”

“hmm,” you ponder, looking away. “i’ll think about it. i mean, there’s a lot of options to choose from.”

peter bites your nose in retaliation and the two of you laugh until you’re dizzy

*

[the-californicationist]

he teaches you new tricks

John Price convinces you to try using a butt plug for the first time, letting you use his ass for practice. It has definitely awakened something in you, and you're ready for more…

Warning: butt stuff, obviously.

It started innocently at first, fumbling and awkward, in the dark. John came home from deployment one day, ravenous and hungry, fingering you through the open leg of your pajama shorts, aiming for your sweet cunt. But, with a gasp from you and a gasp from him, he realized that he missed and landed his digits in a different destination. Your body’s response had been instinctual, and completely out of your control. Certainly the ragged moan he coaxed from your mouth by his accidental caress was not planned. It excited him, that much was obvious, and you discovered, as your mind processed the feelings stirring in your body, it excited you, too.

After that, he’d find excuses to lick you lower and lower, abandoning your pussy in favor of the tight bridge between your holes, even daring to flick his long tongue into what was previously a forgotten or even forbidden territory. Where you would have moved your hips out of his reach before, now you remained pliantly still, waiting for him to push his luck. Egging him on with your submission. When he grabbed your ass, his fingers would pull the cheek away just to reveal your asshole to him, thumbing it gently as he fucked you from behind, and you could feel him looking at it with a novel interest. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d been asked to consider anal sex. Price was not your first lover, but he was the first one who stood any chance of gleaning a positive response to the age-old query. He tested the waters one night while he railed inside of you, taking himself to the brink of pleasure, impairing his own judgment in a fog of bliss, nearly begging,

“You wanna try it out, love? Hm? You like my finger in there, now, dontcha?”

Your anguished cries were not a no, but they were not enough of a yes.

Later, after the fireworks died down, you lay against him, sweaty and sated, and looked up at him, musing,

“You’re so big, though…”

“Hmm?”

“Might be too much.”

“What are you sayin’, love?”

“You wanted to try anal, you said,” your voice was barely above a whisper, resonating in the hollow against his chest.

There was a long pause, and then, a smiling response through pleased sighs,

“Only if you want to. I’m more than happy as it is, clearly.”

“Would it hurt?” You asked. 

“No,” he shook his head confidently, “Shouldn’t hurt. Feels different, though.”

“We could try it,” you pushed your offering out into the quiet between you. 

He sighed,

“Don’t be doin’ this for my benefit. I told you, love, I’m not -”

“No,” you sat firm in your choice, “I wanna try. I don’t know…well, I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Tha’s okay. I’ll show ya, and hey -” he lifted your chin to look at him, gazing down at you with full sincerity, “We can stop anytime. Say it.”

You smiled, recognizing his tone,

“We can stop anytime.”

John cuddled you closer to him, wrapping his body around yours and pulling up the sheet, growling approvingly in your ear,

“Good girl.”

“How much should I put?” You asked, staring at the back of the bottle of lube, reading the vague instructions. 

“Here,” he took it from you and showed you the little pearl of clear liquid on his fingers. 

You handed him the smooth, silicone plug he’d brought home. He showed you the different sizes, the smallest being smaller than his finger - which you rejected - and the medium, and then the large. None of them had been too terribly intimidating. Price had been very serious about informing you of the dangers of not having a “flared base”, extolling the virtues of the T-shaped base he’d selected, touting its comfort and security. 

He rubbed the largest plug with the lube before reaching around and rubbing himself between his cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, not entirely sure what you were witnessing. 

“Want you to practice putting it in, so…” he smirked, blushing a bit from his finger’s ministrations, “You can use me to see how it goes.”

“W-w-what? Are you serious? You would do that for me?” You were positively aghast at his lack of boundaries. 

You had never expected any man in your life to be so free from society's Puritanical norms that he would even allow you to witness his asshole, much less put a butt plug into it - and not just for pleasure, but to educate you? You froze like a deer trapped in headlights, unable to proceed. 

“You don’t have to. You should feel the pressure, though, and see it happening. Makes it less scary, I think,” he held his hands up, not wanting to make you do anything you weren’t on board with. 

You shook your head, snapping out of your surprise,

“No, it’s okay. I just didn’t expect you to be okay with that.”

“I’m asking you to do it, so I should be able to do it, right?” He chuckled, kissing your forehead, rubbing his naked body against yours, turning you on again. 

John lay down on the edge of the bed, flat on his back, and spread his legs for you, hanging his muscular ass off of the side, rubbing his cock a bit for comfort and because he was getting obviously excited. His expressions during this whole ordeal had been positively boyish, full of bright anticipation. The novelty of taking your anal virginity fueled his giddy joy. 

You knelt between his legs, aiming the tip of the plug at his shining asshole, watching him thrust his hand against his hardening length erotically. Carefully, and too slowly, you touched the plug to his dark hole, surrounded by his curly, thick hair, using your other hand to lift his heavy balls out of the way.

Right at the first whisper of a touch, he groaned deeply. Encouraged, you pressed forward, meeting some resistance. Scared of hurting him, you paused there, keeping the tension but too afraid to go forward. 

“Push it in, love. Bit harder than that… please - yeah, fuck!”

Then, just as you applied more pressure, his hole stretched further and the plug disappeared inside of him, like a cork into a bottle, flush. John let out a groan, long and low, full of heady satisfaction.

Well, that wasn’t so scary, you thought. Unable to contain your desire, you tugged gently at his balls again, licking up to the base of his growing dick. He cried out again, enjoying the abundance of sensations. 

“Careful, love. I’ll come easy like this.”

“That good, John?” You rubbed his legs and abdomen affectionately, staring down at his occupied asshole, wanting very badly to feel what he was feeling. 

“So good. You wanna try?” He rolled over, sliding to the floor carefully, his cheeks rosy and warm as he kneeled down beside you, “Stand up for me, love.”

You stood, suddenly nervous. Price could tell. Your hesitation rolled off of your body language like a siren. He started to finger your pussy, enjoying the wetness in you, admiring the way you were already swollen and pulsing for him. His warm mouth kissed and licked your folds, drawing out long, luxurious moans from your throat, bringing you closer and closer to your climax.

Just as you thought he might make you come, he grabbed the lube from the nightstand and smeared it over his fingers, painting it onto your asshole. The slick feeling was enough to make you jolt, and you held onto his shoulders for balance. 

“C’mere, baby. Lay down for me,” he commanded in a careful timbre, moving your body as his had been on the mattress.

Price lifted your legs, grabbing you behind the knees and spreading you open, unable to resist eating your pussy when he did so, bending his head to taste you fully. Your orgasm was coiled up in your like a snake, ready to strike at any moment.

Then, you felt it, the tip of the medium-sized plug made cold contact with your asshole, and it sent a shock through your core. You gasped, and Price took it back, saying, 

“You alright, love?”

You nodded,

“You can do it. I’m okay.”

He pressed it back against your hole more confidently, pushing it into you until you felt stretched and open. Then, just as you had felt it slot into him, you felt it as it popped delightfully into you, feeling strange and extremely sensitive.

Price immediately went to your clit, licking it and fingering you inside of your pussy, and you felt the coil wind up again, stronger and more furious than before, stoked by the stimulation of your ass. He made you come, groaning right along with you, his eyes transfixed to your slick core, watching you pulse and clench around his hand. Each clench made the plug shift inside of you, rubbing against your insides, creating sparks in a place where there had never been any before. 

“Talk to me. How are you doing?” Price asked, rubbing your belly and thighs, comforting you. 

“It’s…strange. But, it’s good. Really good, actually,” you admitted, smiling, playing with your breasts lazily, coming down from your high. 

“Want me to play with you?”

You nodded, 

“Please.”

John hooked his first two fingers into the T-bar of the flexible plug, and he began to pull it out. You felt it stretching you, and then you felt a terrible emptiness when he removed it. You whimpered, involuntarily, and then gasped when he pushed it back in again. He was thrusting it in and out of you achingly slowly, letting you feel every little movement, telegraphing his actions as explicitly as he could, making sure you could see as much of his arm as possible. You were eager to feel more of it, and you told him,

“John... Feels so good. Faster, please.”

He obliged, and you understood, finally, the appeal. It wasn’t just your asshole that was sending sensation information to your brain. It was your pussy as well. The wall between your two holes was incredibly sensitive, and you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter as he fucked you with your new toy. Suddenly, he stopped and crawled over you, angling his cock to press into your pussy, slipping in easily through your slick come. 

You screamed, then. It was so intense, and you could feel both him and the plug battling each other for space as he began to thrust into you. Your shout stopped him at once, and he held his weight off of you,

“You’re hurt?”

You felt him start to pull out, panicked. You grabbed his waist, stopping him,

“Don’t go, baby.”

His sigh was pure elation, and he fed himself back into you, picking up a thumping rhythm that made the plug dance to his steady beat, teasing you incessantly. You were going to come so quickly and so hard. You could feel the build up, and it was like a stampede. Trying to warn him, you fought to catch your breath,

“John, I’m com-”

“Me, too, love. Bloody hell,” he spoke to you through gritted teeth, his pupils blown and full of a dark possession. 

You came together, gasping and keening, feeling him rolling through his orgasm like a tidal wave, filling you up quickly. 

He slid out of you, trying to catch his breath, and he carefully removed the plug, leaving you feeling hollow, full of a sort of sexual grief, a part of you begging to be filled again right away, bereft and missing your lover and his tools. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

“Sorry, love. You alright? Sorry…it was - It was too much for me. Couldn’t last,” he was coming undone at the seams. 

“More than alright, I think. That was…something else,” you smiled, earning yourself a wide grin in return. 

You watched him carefully remove the plug from himself, laying them on the washcloth on the small table. John reached for the other two soft rags that he had set out, and he used one to clean you up. He was so diligent in making sure he didn’t put you at any risk of infection, and you could tell it was taking everything he had to concentrate on his work. 

It had been almost a week since you’d had your adventure in toyland with John, and you were snuggling into him on the sofa, playing with the waistband of his pants absentmindedly, watching Liverpool and Tottenham. You weren’t sure how to push the envelope, so you just came right out and asked him,

“Do you want to fuck my ass tonight?”

He was mid-sip on his ale, and he nearly choked to death. His whole body convulsed as he coughed, hacking through the invasive liquid, trying to breathe. You’d startled him, and while you were a little sorry, you were also a little not. 

“Wh-what, love?” He asked through coughs, his face red and full of wide surprise. 

“I thought we could try. You know, if you wanted to.”

“Fuuuuuckin’ hell,” he caught his breath, smiling at you, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead, fully ignoring the game, “Yeah, yeah, I would do. Yeah, now?”

You giggled, curling into him cozily, 

“You’ve got forty minutes left in this match, babe.”

John didn’t reply. He clicked the screen off with his remote and scooped you off the couch, carried you into the bedroom, and playfully tossed you onto the big mattress. You were laughing with nervous excitement, impressed by his reaction. His expression was still one of genuine surprise, but along the edges, you could see a tremendous needy desire. His tone was still bright and playful, but now it was heavy with lustful warning,

“Clothes off, love. You lit a fuckin’ match, you did.”

He raked his shirt off his torso and threw it away, shucking off his jeans and socks like he was in a race, slipping his boxers off to prowl over you, fully naked and hard as a stone, leaking as his cock rubbed along your thigh. You’d almost matched him, but you still had your panties on, and he peeled them from you unceremoniously, his lips finding yours and slanting against his bearded mouth. He slipped his tongue past your teeth, dragging it along yours, licking you with a delicate longing, making your body ready and willing to respond to his every whim. 

Price was right of course, you had lit a match. He had one thing on his mind, and he let you know it. His mouth kissed its way down your body until it found your asshole, which he began to lick and writhe his way inside, lapping along the edges and onto your cheeks, devouring you. His fingers joined his efforts, rimming around the edges, sending clear signals to your body as he did so, and then he began to carefully invade your hole, prepping you for his intrusion. 

The way he scissored his fingers in you was enough to send your mind soaring with pleasure, but when he reached for the bottle of lube, your nerves returned. Your body stilled, and your breathing became more shallow. He smeared the lube against you and slowed things way, way down. 

“You alright, love? I won’t hurt you, baby, you know that,” he bent to kiss your neck, “You want me to stop?”

“No,” you shook your head, “no, I’m just nervous.”

“Tha’s okay,” he smiled, “Brave girl. Being so good for me. Hungry for me, hm?”

“Yeah, I am,” you felt the waves of pleasure return at his praise-filled words. He knew what you wanted to hear, and he was happy to oblige. 

Once he was pleased with your flexibility, he positioned himself at your asshole, slippery with lube and his thick precome, his cock jerking with excitement, rigid and stretching for you. The smooth, fleshy head of his dick pressed against your muscles, willing them to relent. 

“Breathe for me, baby,” Price coached you. 

You tried to breathe deeply, feeling yourself relax. Then, his head popped into you, mimicking the feeling of the plug. You sighed deeply, reveling in the familiar feeling. However, unlike the plug, Price had plenty more ground to cover, and he pushed himself deeper in the slowest, gentlest way possible. He was groaning the entire time, whining darkly in an animalistic way, like a wolf snarling in a fight, tense and stressed.

Wanting him to feel pleasure with you, your hands went to his belly, celebrating his body, rubbing him lovingly, rewarding him for his careful treatment. 

He hit another boundary of some kind, stopping his progress. John meet your eyes, and it was so filthy, the way he looked at you, you felt yourself pulse around him. You watched (with no small level of pride) as his eyes rolled back into his head, showing you their fluttering whites like a vicious shark, ready to snap. He whispered to you, recovering a bit,

“Breathe deep for me. One, two, three…that’s it, love, good girl. Such a good girl for me. Yes-yes-yes… ohhh…”

The rest of him pressed its way into you, and you were truly filled. As he sheathed himself, he waited there, breathing with you, relaxing into you as you relaxed, his cock simply sitting inside of you, hard and warm. 

“You okay?” He asked, quiet and falsely calm.

You nodded, cupping his bearded cheek, 

“Yes, baby. I’m good. So fucking good.”

Reserved and heavily restrained, he began to thrust into you slow and easy, making the most delicious faces as he did so. It felt like a dream and time stretched out around you in all directions. He created waves and waves of pleasure for you. You were so full and warm, and your clit was tingling without being touched, excited by the sparkling sensation of Price fucking your ass. You reached down to touch yourself, hissing at the pleasure of your own touch, and Price was salaciously injured by it,

“Oh, bloody fuckin’ hell. Yes, baby. Just like that. Touch yourself… Shite! I’m not gonna last.” 

You fondled your clit until you began to buzz from it, feeling the chill of an orgasm creep up your spine. You wanted him to join you, so you pushed him, knowing he was vulnerable,

“That’s my big bear, making me feel so fucking full. Want you to come in my ass. Wanna feel it inside me,” you doused the fire you’d built in him with kerosene words, and you grinned as you watched the resulting blaze. 

“Fuuuuck, fuck, fuck!” 

His come was thick and hot as it spilled out into you, and you could feel it inside of your asshole, wet and soft, folding around his cockhead as he thrust up into his own fluids. Pure bliss was painted across his face, and you covered yourself in his joy like a heavy coat, surrounded by it, and proud of your work, glad he was such a willing teacher.

You loved learning new tricks.

[scftpcws]

Star Crossed| Armando Aretas | Teaser

✩Description: Requested by @nelo0wesker : “Enemies to lovers Armando X reader. Readers in the mafia while Armando in the cartel”

✩ Pairing : Armando Aretas x Fem!reader

✩ Genre : Dark Mafia Romance

✩ Warnings: 17+ (smut in later chapters, Violence, Drug usage, Gang Violence, Sexual/Dark themes, Child endangerment, source accurate violence, bad language, death, my awful spelling and grammar, my terrible Spanish translations (i’m a little rusty), made up characters

✩ Fandom: Bad Boys

✩ Taglist : @nelo0wesker @twinklestarslight @mzbeautii96 @geneziesm @mcotton0928 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sunrisesfromthewest

✩ A/n: i didn’t know how i could put this in one post so its going to be a multi part fic! i really hope yall enjoy this . i should be updating weekly (hopefully..) pls lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist or if you would like a rundown of the characters xx

anywayss…

Teaser under the cut !! * *‧.₊˚*੭*ˊᵕˋ੭.*

enjoy!! :)

Star Crossed| Armando Aretas

“But Dad, why?” she huffed, throwing her arms in the air in frustration.

“Because i said no.”

“But thats not a good enough answer.”

“Y/n, seriously, leave it alone.” he responded, shooting her a glance.

“But I have been training my whole life for this! How am i supposed to take over one day if you can’t trust me to do this?!” she was seething with rage, her nails digging into her palms. She had been told she could ‘go out in the field’ once she had completed her training and was now being denied that right. To say it pissed her off was a serious understatement.

“Mom would want me to do this!”

“Your mother is dead! She cannot want anything! You’re not going and that is final!”

She took a step back, tears welling in her eyes. Ever since her mother had died on a mission, her father had become cold and distant. It was almost as if he never cared for her.

“Thats not fair , and you know it,” she spoke through gritted teeth, her hands balled up in fists at her sides. “If you really don’t want me there despite me being your best agent, fine. But when it all goes to shit, don’t ask me to help.”

She left her fathers office, the thud of her boots following her. Her father sighed, holding his face in his hands. Y/n was just like her mother, dedicated, hardworking, and undeniably stubborn. She couldn’t understand why her father wouldn’t allow her to assist the team on this mission. She thought he was coddling her, holding her back from her full potential. But in reality, he was protecting her.

She stomped all the way to her room, throwing herself on the plush mattress. Her bedroom door clicked open, the sound of kitten heels on the hardwood floors piquing her attention.

“Little one, what did i tell you about shoes on the bed?” the sweet and comforting voice of her childhood nanny, Rosetta, made her huff out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “Sorry Miss Rosetta.” she apologised, unlacing her boots and placing them by her bed. “Good, now what’s with that face? Pretty girls like you shouldn’t frown like that.” Rosetta smiled softly, sitting next to her. Her hair was bouncy and smelled like shea butter and coconut oil. Her makeup was light and refreshing, making her look younger than she really was, though Y/n would never point that out because she knew how sensitive Rosetta was about her looks. she dressed unlike the house staff you would expect to find in a home like Y/n’s, more like a rich aunt rather than a nanny.

“Dad is being difficult again.” Y/n grumbled, crossing her arms, her lip slightly jutted out. Rosetta smiled softly at her, the wrinkles by her eyes becoming more prominent. “Now Miss Y/n, you know he is just looking out for you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, or worse.” she reasoned, petting y/n’s hair. Rosetta was painfully aware of what had happened to Y/n’s mother, and knew it was a sensitive subject, so she made sure to tread lightly.

Y/n stood from her place on the bed, pacing around her lavish room. “But i am not a baby anymore and he knows that! I am one of the most skilled people on the team but he still treats me like a child. It’s not fair!” she argued, her frustration becoming more and more apparent in the way she spoke.

Rosetta smiled, “Well i can’t blame him when you act like this. If i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were having a temper tantrum,” she joked, her tone light, a gentle grin on her face. Y/n rolled her eyes in response, walking back to her bed. Rosetta held her arms open for her, as she used to when Y/n was younger. She laid her head in Rosetta’s lap, allowing the older woman to rake her fingers through her hair, the tension melting from her body.

“Look, Munchkin, your Baba cares about you. He wants you to be safe, and so do i. He has already lost so much, he cannot lose you too.”, Rosetta affirmed, looking down at the sweet girl in her lap. She looked almost the same as she did when she was a child, still soft and precious, but fiercer and somehow more headstrong.

Y/n often despised the way that no matter what Rosetta said, she made sense, she always made sense. “Now dinner will be ready soon, will you be coming down?” She asked, looking down at the girl curled up in her lap.

“I will, but i’m not talking to him.”

The dinner was quiet as ever, just Y/n and her father sat at the table on opposite ends, the same way it had been since her mother died. Rosetta stood off to the side, refilling their glasses whenever they emptied.

“Silent treatment? Real mature Y/n, real mature.” he father stated, taking a sip from the glass of water Rosetta had poured for him. Y/n stood her ground. She wasn’t trying to be childish or petty, she was trying not to to say something she would regret later on, for she did not have a good grasp on the sharp tongue she inherited from her father. Though, it did make arguments with him all the more interesting. “The target is called Benit-”

“Im not going remember? why would you tell me?” she interrupted harshly, her jaw clenched and eyes glaring daggers at her father. “You exhaust me, daughter, you really do.” Her dad sighed, taking a forkful of food and putting it into his mouth. “I’m just trying to fill the silence that you insist upon, because you are too spoiled to take no for an answer, but i guess that is not good enough for you, because nothing ever is.” he grumbled, knowing perfectly well that she would hear every word.

“I insist on the silence, because at least when it’s silent my very existence isn’t being insulted.” she quipped back, cutting up her food and shoving some in her mouth in a hurried attempt to shut herself up. Her father may be head of one of the most powerful mafia families in the world, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t her dad.

“Well maybe if you just did as you were told for once, without questioning my every decision i wouldn’t have to call you out on your petulance!”

“Oh I’m petulant? Says the man who won’t let anyone do anything because he’s too afraid!”

“You are just like your mother, always flying off the handle, not thinking before acting!”

“Mom never listened to your stupid demands and orders!”

“Look where that got her!, the silence was so deafening you could hear a pin drop. “Honey I-”

“How could you say something like that? She did nothing but love you and this is how you talk about her? You berate her for the only mistake she ever made, which was protecting me! She was perfect, never cursed, was polite and knew how to handle herself without getting herself into trouble. You tell me i am just like her?! Well i wish i was like her, maybe then you wouldn’t view me so negatively . Or maybe you would, because that’s exactly how you view her.” Her fists slammed against the table as she rose from her chair.

“Miss Y/n-”

“Miraculously my appetite has gone, thank you for the food though Rosetta.” and with that, she left to her room.

“I dont even want to hear it, Rose” her father huffed, his brows furrowed and his hands clenched together.

“You are both in the wrong. That’s all.” She smiled, placing her hand on Claude’s shoulder, her thumb grazing the fabric of his well tailored suit.

“I know.”

“Hey Boss?” a tall man, of a muscular build walked up to the table, papers in hand. “Yes Lorenzo?” Claude responded, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “I got everything i could on our target from our guy inside, but his tracker just went dead.” Lorenzo admitted, his head low, making sure not to make eye contact with his boss.

“What do you mean his tracker went dead?” Claude breathed, his fist slamming on the table top, causing Rosetta to jump while she cleaned up. “I mean his tracker was on and then it wasn’t.” Lorenzo asserted, huffing out a breath.

“You think this is funny, Enzo?” Claude stood up, grabbing the collar of Lorenzo’s shirt in his fist and and pulling his face closer toward his own.

“No boss.” Claude stared right into Lorenzo’s eyes, his teeth clenched in fury.

“Fix it.”

“Well, we think he may have been discovered, and you know, blown his cover.” Enzo responded calmly, knowing if he reacted the way he wanted to he’d be out of a job, and possibly a life. “Damn you Aretas.” he sighed, his knees suddenly becoming weak.

“Boss!”

“Claude!”, Rosetta ran to his side, holding him up as Lorenzo helped her situate him in the chair. “Kill him, i dont care what you have to do to make it happen. i want him dead.”

“Miguel. Ven aqí (come here)” a gruff voice demanded silence from a small group of men playing a round of Cheat, at a table in the middle of a worn down garage.

“Yeah Jay?” Miguel answered, a sweet smile gracing his lips, his two gold canines on full display.

“Did you do what i asked you to?” he was strangely calm, his left eyebrow slightly raised in mock amusement.

“Yeah of course i did.” Miguel answered, his hands moving straight to his pockets. He was lying.

“What did i ask you to do, hmm?” Jay’s hand made its way to Miguels face, squishing the skin in his hand, as the panic started and sweat began to settle on his forehead. ‘oh shit, what did he ask me to do,’ he thought, trying hard to remember the simple task he was asked to complete.

“I asked you to count the money.”

“Oh yeaaah count the money,” his response was delayed and drawn out, a clear indication that he had not in fact counted the money like Jay had asked him to.

“You see, Compa (friend), i asked you to do one thing,huh? Una cosa (one thing) , and you couldn’t even do that,” Miguel looked his ‘friend’ up and down, he was clearly upset, he fucked up.. bad.

before he could utter an apology for his incompetence he felt the cool end of a gun against his temple. “One thing buddy, thats all i asked. Look man, I knew you were stupid, but i didn’t know all that food you ate inhibited your brain functions!” Jay’s words were like venom. He was never nice to anyone but this was too far, even for him.

“Look man, i got distracted, I’m sorry, i’ll count the racks up before Boss gets back, i swear just don’t shoot.” he begged, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

“I should shoot ya’ in ya’ head, maybe it’ll rearrange your brain, make you useful, hmm?” he spat, digging the barrel of the gun further into his skull. “Or maybe i should shoot ya’ dick off, maybe then you’ll spend less time thinking about las putas (the whores) we see on the street and more time thinking about the simple fucking things i ask your dumbass to do!”

“Please man, you know i have a wife and kids, man. I am begging you.”

“Damn, i forgot about that pretty little thing you call your wife. fuck, you think if if i shoot you i could play step daddy for you, hmm? Keep your side of the bed warm. Snuggle up with ya’ Mrs, give her some good- ”

*Bang*

The sound of a gunshot resounded through the garage. Miguel checked himself over for bullet holes as Jay’s body hit the ground with a heavy thud, his gun falling from his grasp.

“Louis.” Armando said, watching the blood pour from Jay’s lifeless body and pool around him. “Yeah boss?,” a young boy, no older than 19 stood abruptly from his seat at the card table, almost knocking his chair over.

“Clean that up will you? I hate rats.”

“Yes boss.”

“And Miguel? Go count the money before i bury you with him.”

“Yes, boss.”

Hope you enjoyed the teaser!! the first part will be out soon xx

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo being your enemy (or lover?)

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: Your family told you over and over, pounded it into your head since childhood: Satoru Gojo is your enemy, you are simply not allowed to feel anything but hatred towards the Gojo clan. But why do you find yourself lost in his arms each and every night, begging him to love you right?

Warnings: mentions of smut, it's getting heated (intimate touching) but not "real" lol, language

Finally, my first fic after quite some time! Let me thank every single one of you for your patience and sticking with me, I'd be more than honored if you show some love 🤍

„There you are, I searched everywhere for you.”

Just the sound of his melodic voice sends shivers down your spine, makes you break out in sweat. God, it should be forbidden to be this gorgeous, it shouldn’t be allowed for a man to be this charismatic. But oh, Gojo Satoru is. And you hate the way you feel about him.

“And I avoided you as good as I could.”

But at the same time, you can’t keep your mind off him, can’t keep your hands to yourself, can’t stop yourself from shamelessly staring at his delicious jawline, can’t control the urge to get under him. His body pressed against yours, skin to skin while he whispers the filthiest thoughts into your ear until you scream his name into the night.

“You know we’re alone, right?”

The raspy tone in his voice makes your eyes dart up in an instant. You know all too well you shouldn’t even look at him, that you need to keep your safe distance. Why is it so damn hard to resist him? The curse of your family, the enemy of your bloodline. Your family and the Gojo clan hated and fought each other since the beginning of time, making your whole childhood consist of nothing but hatred towards their golden child. But that golden child circles around you like a hunter around its prey, takes off your clothes with the sheer force of his bright blue orbs alone.

“We shouldn’t be.”

Your mouth is dry like the desert, the overwhelming feeling of losing your consciousness eats you up alive. It’s so wrong to stand in front of him, to let him linger over you with his much taller frame. Gojo Satoru is your worst enemy, the one and only thing your family warned you about. Why is it so damn easy to fall head over heels for him?

“You know you can leave anytime. I’m not forcing you to stay with me. But if you do you won’t regret it.”

You swallow down the lump building up inside your throat, doe eyes fixated on his dangerous ones. If they’d see you here, only inches away from the greatest member of the Gojo clan, you’d be screwed to infinity.

“We can’t do this anymore. We’ve already crossed that line way too often. You and me, we are…”

“Enemies, lovers? It’s completely up to you, (y/n). I couldn’t care less about my family’s opinion-“

“You should care, though. Our lives depend on it”, you reply urgently.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

His deep chuckle almost sends you over the edge, the way his eyes linger over you makes you hold your breath. That way too confident bastard who thinks the world belongs to him exclusively, who thinks he’s a god walking on earth. How much you hate his cocky smile, his immense powers, his arrogant appearance. Somehow your family is right for hating him, somehow you get why they want you to stay away from Gojo Satoru.

“You’re an arrogant bastard”, you bite back.

“Watch that mouth, (y/n). Why are you still here, huh? Feel free to leave if you wanna get away from me so bad.”

Your heavy breaths hang in the heated air between both of you. Just one stretch of your finger would be enough for your fingertips to brush over his broad chest. Just one touch would be enough to light the fire between both of you again. Why do your hands start to shake all of the sudden? Why is your heart almost beating out of your chest?

It’s because of him.

“Leave”, you press out while moving an inch forward.

“Just leave and never come back.”

“Or what?”, he breathes out, caging you between the cool wall and his burning body.

Get yourself together, think about your family. Gojo Satoru is your enemy despite being a jujutsu sorcerer as well, you aren’t allowed to even talk to him, you should leave right here and now, you-

“Fuck”, you hiss through gritted teeth before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you roughly.

You press your lips against his as hard as possible, teeth brushing over each other, making your lips swell in an instant. His strong arms are immediately wrapped around your frame, keeping you in place while he teases you with his tongue. Without mercy, over and over. You can’t catch your breath, hands searching for hold on his shoulders.

“I hate you”, you jeer against his parted lips before wrapping your legs around his hips.

“Oh yeah? Then let me show you how much I hate you as well”, he bites back, kissing that sweet spot on your neck that makes you see stars.

You can’t help but moan, press yourself even harder against the growing sensation in his pants, digging your nails into his uniform. God, how much you hate that guy. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t let him come near you, shouldn’t allow him to even touch your body.

Suddenly his hand wanders down your body, further and further until he cups your crotch roughly.

Fuck.

This feels so good.

No, it feels so bad.

“S-Satoru”, you whimper softly.

Your melodic voice sounds like music in his desperate ears, makes his skilled fingers pick up their pace in an instant. Oh, how precious you look with your eyes rolled backwards into your skull, how well his name suits your filthy little mouth.

This. This is right where you belong. Between his arms with his hand between your thighs.

“You like that, huh?”

You press your lips together and close your eyes, try to escape the sensation that builds up inside of you. No, you shouldn’t feel this good, you shouldn’t let him have this much power over your body. Screw Gojo Satoru and his skilled hands, screw that bastard for always making his way into your pants.

“Hell no I don’t.”

“Is that so?”, he teases.

Roughly, he snatches his hand away and cups your cheek, forcing your glossy eyes to look up at him. He looks absolutely delicious with his hair being a wild mess and his puffy lips ready to get kissed again.

No.

You shake your head, avoid his gaze. This is wrong. You shouldn’t even be here. If you leave now and go back to your apartment, you are able to pretend that none of this ever happened. Yes, Gojo Satoru will be nothing more than a comrade you have to endure, nothing but a plague in your life. Everything will turn out alright if you leave right here and now.

But your hands still hold onto his shoulders for dear life, you still whimper softly with every breath you take, your heart still races in desire. Fuck, why is it so hard to let go of him?

“I give zero fucks about our families hating and fighting each other. I want you and nothing else, you understand? We don’t have to do this in secret, you don’t have to pretend that you hate me while you don’t. I want you, (y/n). And I need to have you.”

You hate the way his words make shivers run down your spine, how your heartbeat picks up in an instant. The thought of having him alone is enough to almost send you over the edge. But oh, how could you forget his reputation with women, the things you’ve heard from Shoko? You are nothing but a trophy for a man like him, nothing but a price he hunts after.

You take a deep breath in and out, tame down your beating heart. He might be hot, but he’s still your enemy. Don’t forget where you came from, don’t let yourself fall because of a man.

“You only want me to brag about it. I’m not just one of your many toys, Satoru. And I’m too good to be yours. I’d rather keep you as my enemy.”

With a swift motion, you free yourself out of his grip, remove your touch from his burning skin. Fuck, should you turn around and fall back into his open arms, let him fuck you until you see stars like usual? As much as your body begs you to stay, as much as you miss his touch, you can’t.

After all, Gojo Satoru is your enemy, right?

…Right?

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82

[paris9]

wrong place right time

Victoria Neuman x fem!reader

Warnings: Age gap (20 year old reader), dubcon, intoxicated Neuman, Asshole men, threats of headpopping, height difference, reader works with The Boys.

(Might have spelling mistakes. did this quick.)

This wasn’t your first time sneaking through a window but it was your first time sneaking through a window to save your friends ass from getting killed at Tek Knights party. You hauled yourself over the windows ledge, falling onto the soft carpet with a small thump. You tried to make as little noise as possible as you slowly pulled yourself up. You walked down the hallway, eyeing each picture on the wall with disgust. This place really gave you the fucking creeps.

Trying to find Hughie while trying not to get caught was hard. There were so many people here.. and on top of that both the remaining of the seven and Ms Head popper herself (what you liked to call her) was here as well. You made sure to remain vigilant, looking for any clues you could find to where Tek Knight took your friend. You checked different rooms, making sure to keep clear of the main Party room. You were checking out a particular room, your eyes wondering over the fine vintage furniture, suddenly you felt your head throb, and your nose began to leak.

You took a finger and wiped away the metallic crimson liquid, you heard the door open and close behind you rather gently. Fuck! “I knew you and your little group couldn’t stay away. Give me a good reason on why I shouldn’t pop that pretty little head of yours.” Her voice was raspy and patronizing, leaving a very heavy threat in the air. Victoria Neuman. You turn around slowly, facing her, your heart felt as if it was going to explode out of your chest. “I’m not here to cause any trouble—“ she quickly cut you off “you’re always here to cause trouble.” Her voice was almost teasing, her dark eyes scanning your face, as if she’s trying to memorize every detail of you. Victoria set down her now empty glass of alcohol on a small mahogany table.

“I promise im not.. I’m just here to get someone out of here.” Your voice shook slightly. You definitely weren’t gonna reveal anything to her. There was a long moment of silence of her just studying you before she let out a simple ‘hmm.’ A long sigh escaped Victoria, “you know.. honestly, I’m actually glad you’re here..” she said simply, taking a small step towards you. You took an equally small step back, she seemed a bit intoxicated. “Yeah I don’t fucking believe that.” You mutter and a half smile formed across her red lips, it didn’t seem fake but you never truly knew with her.

“I’m serious.. there’s too many old men here who keep going on and on about what a woman should do with her body.. it’s insane really. Made’ me wanna pop my own fucking head.” She scoffed, shaking her head with a sigh. You didn’t really know what to say to her, ‘sorry???’ Or ‘not my problem.’ Instead of responding to her you just stayed silent.

“Has anyone told you how fucking gorgeous you are?” The older woman said horsely, admiring you almost.. hungrily? “Even in the most mediocre outfits..” she pointed towards your plain sweat pants and a baggy black ‘AC/DC” shirt. “Erm.. thanks..? Can I go… or…” you spoke anxiously. The congresswoman frowned, her eyes narrowing dangerously, “and why should I let you go? You know how easy it would be to just.. take care of you permanently?” Victoria stepped forward, closing in on you fast. She pinned you against the wall, you struggle but she doesn’t budge, handling you like a small pitiful puppy that just got scuffed for doing something bad.

You closed your eyes, ready to feel something… anything to let you know that she was gonna end you but nothing came. Instead you felt a cold hand travel under your shirt feeling your bare skin, her nose placed in the crook of your neck. She inhaled deeply and let out a hum of satisfaction, “you smell so.. sweet.. like strawberries and vanilla.” Her voice came out slurred. Her hands slender fingers moved up your waist, tracing your delicate skin. You open your eyes slowly, blinking confused and scared with a frown. ‘What the actual fuck..’ your mind was frantic and weirded out. Was she gonna kill you or not?

“Let me go please.” You ask gently. Neuman just sighed out, “you’re right.. I need to at least take you out first am I right?” She joked mainly to herself. You chuckle nervously “yeah.. At least take a girl to dinner first..” you move away from her. Honestly you weren’t too apposed to the idea but the group would honestly kill you or tell you how stupid you are. She watched you, “I don’t want to harm you.. or anyone..” she admitted shaking a bit, Victoria took a minute to catch her breath. She composed herself within a blink of an eye, “you can go.. this never happened.” She said coldly, turning her back to you to study a huge family portrait on the wall.

You felt bad.. honestly you really shouldn’t. She’s a shitty person but just seeing how mentally unwell she was did something to you. “Yeah um.. I’ll go.. but if you do want to get dinner sometime I can give you my number.” You said approaching her slowly. She turned her head towards you slightly, her eyes narrowing, “really.. do you really expect me to just believe you like that? Also.. you’re what..? 19?” She asked raising a eyebrow. “I’m 20.” You shrug, “besides. It won’t hurt my team if they don’t know.” You smile playfully and she rolled her eyes at you before turning away.

“Fine.. no phone numbers and shit though. Only emails.” She said with a huff. You raise an eyebrow and snort, “Emails? Really? Jesus Christ..” you mutter teasingly as she took out her phone, making you write your email in her notes app. This was humiliating for you, truly.

Once you were done Victoria excused herself as if nothing ever happened. You had a friend to rescue anyways so you got back onto that. You did finally find hughie in some type of Sex dungeon?? This place just kept getting fucking weirder and weirder.. who knew Tek knight was such a weirdo (obviously so many people) but you called Annie and Kimiko, who helped you get hughie out of there.

———————————-

Two days later you did end up getting an email from Victoria. She wanted you to meet her at some classy restaurant, telling you to wear something pretty. Which you did. It was surprising how well you two hit it off. Maybe she wasn’t the political Supe monster everyone made her out to be?